DOMESTIC SCIENCE 



IN 



GRAMMAR GRADES 

WILSON 



TX 

147 

Wr4 



LIBRARY Of CONGRESS. 

— 

Chap. ________ Copyright No 

Shelf.__ J :W7.4 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



DOMESTIC SCIENCE 
IN GRAMMAR GRADES 



A READER 



'T&j&fe- 



DOMESTIC SCIENCE 



GRAMMAR GRADES 



a iseaoer 



BY 



L. L. W: WILSON, Ph.D. 

OF THE PHILADELPHIA NORMAL SCHOOL 

AUTHOR OF "DOMESTIC SCIENCE IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS I 

A MANUAL FOR TEACHERS " 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd. 



1900 

All riglits reserved 



2658 

TWO COPlti ..REIVED, 

Library of CoisgrM* 
Office of the 

JUM 7-1900 

Reglitor of Copy rlf Iff 

SECOND COPY, 




64131 

Copyright, 1900, 
By THE MAC MILL AX COMPANY. 



Xorfaoenti $3rrss 

J. S. Gushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith 

Norwood Mass. U.S.A. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



THE HOME 



PAGK 



Housekeeping under Difficulties. Jane Welsh Carlyle . 3 

The Vicar of Wakefield's House. Oliver Goldsmith . 5 
Thoreau's House near Walden Pond, from " Walden." 

Henry D. Thoreau 7 

Homes of Other Times 

The Egyptian House, from " Life in Ancient Egypt." 
Erman 12 

Homes of Savages 

A Bushman's Home, from Ratzel's " History of Mankind " 14 
Malay Homes, from Ratzel's " History of Mankind " . 15 

Homes of the Half Civilized 

Home of the Indian, from Ratzel's " History of Mankind " 18 
The Home of the Modern Eskimo, from " Fortnightly " . 19 

Homes of the Civilized 

The Japanese House and its Customs, from "Japan and 

its Art." Marcus B. Huish 21 

The Japanese Bath, from " Chambers's Journal " . . 23 

THE KITCHEN 

Mrs. Poyser's Kitchen, from "Adam Bede." George 

Eliot 27 

The Roman Kitchen 28 

v 



VI TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Evolution of Fire 29 

Ancient Forests and Modern Fuel, from " Temple Bar " 30 
The Bundle of Matches. Hans Christian Andersen . 37 

FOODS AND COOKING 

The Effects of Foods. Matthew Prior .... 43 

The Proteids 



Foods of Combustion and Nutrition, from " History of a 

Mouthful of Bread." Jean Mace * 
Evolution of Methods of Cooking 



The Roast Pig. " The Essays of Elia." Charles Lamb 57 



Cooking. " Lorna Doone." R. D. Blackmore 

The Salmon 

Eggs. " Old English Sayings and Rhymes ' 
E (,, °*s . . ..... 

The Lament of an Oyster, from " Punch " 
Oysters. King James I. of England 

Oysters. Seneca 

Oysters. Sallust 



44 

56 



61 
61 
63 
63 
63 
64 
64 
64 



The Carbohydrates 

Starch 65 

Rice in Japan, from R'atzel's ; ' History of Mankind " . 65 

Rice Culture 66 

Story of the Potato, from " All the Year Round " . .68 
Legend of the Corn, from " Hiawatha." Henry W. 

Longfellow 69 

Sugar 74 

A Visit to a Sugar Refinery 75 

Bread 

A Loaf of Bread 77 

Crackers, from " Chambers's Journal " . . .78 

* Reprinted by the kind permission of Messrs. Harper and Brothers. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS Vll 



PAGE 



Hot Cross-buns, from Chambers's " Book of Days " . 80 

Mexican Bread — the Tortilla 82 

Bread of the Zuni Indians . . . • • .83 

Salads 
Recipe for a Salad. Spanish Proverb .... 83 

Drinks 

Tea Culture, from "Society in China." Robert K. 

Douglas °" 

The Tea Ceremony in Japan, from the Catalogue of the 

Ceramic Collection of the South Kensington Museum. 

Dr. Frank 86 

Coffee, from " Sylva Sylvarum." Lord Bacon . . 88 
Chocolate 88 

Condiments 

A Salt Manufactory, from " Gentleman's Magazine," 1897 89 

A Salt Mine 93 

Salt Superstitions 94 

Pepper y ° 

THE DINING ROOM 

Dinners. " Lucile." Owen Meredith .... 99 

An Egyptian Dinner 99 

A Roman Dinner, from "Gallus, or Roman Scenes in 
the Times of Augustus." Professor Bekker . . 100 

A Dinner at the House of Cedric the Saxon, from 
" Ivanhoe." Sir Walter Scott 102 

The Eskimo Dinner, from Ratzel's "History of Man- 
kind" 107 

The Death of the Famous Cook Vatel, from " Letters of 
Madame de Sevigne " 1° 8 

Dining with a Mandarin, from "Belgravia" . . .110 



Vlll TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A Japanese Meal, from "Japan and its Art." Marcus 
B. JIuish 113 

Christmas Dinner at Bob Cratchit's, from " Christmas 
Carol." Charles Dickens 113 



THE BEDROOM AND VENTILATION 

An Old Riddle 119 

Beds of Animals ........ 119 

Mexican Bed — the Hammock 119 

Bed and Bedding 120 

(a) In Bible Times 120 

(h) In Greece 121 

(c) In Rome 122 

(d) In England 122 

(e) In Russia 123 

The Aerial Ocean in which we live, from " Fairy Land 

of Science." Arabella Buckley 123 

Dust, from " All the Year Round," 1895 . . . .127 

Bacteria 129 



THE LAUNDRY 

Washing, from " All the Year Round " . . . . 135 

Laundry Work in Italy 139 

About Common Water, from "New Fragments." Tyndall 140 

Indigo 142 

HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE CLEANING 

House Cleaning, from "The Principal Household Insects 
of the United States." L. O. Howard and C. L. Marlatt 147 

Carpet-beetle, from " The Principal Household Insects of 
the United States." L. O. Howard and C. L. Marlatt 118 

Story of the Clothes-moth, from "Tenants of an Old 
Farm." Dr. Henry C. McCook * 149 

* Reprinted by kind permission of Dr. Henry C. McCook. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS IX 

PAGE 

The House-fly. John Raskin 154 

The House-fly 155 

The Mosquito. William Cullen Bryant .... 156 
The Mosquito, from "The Principal Household Insects of 

the United States." L. O. Howard and C. L. Marlatt 157 
Cockroaches, from "The Principal Household Insects of 

the United States." L. O. Howard and C. L. Marlatt 162 
The Silver Fish, from "The Principal Household Insects 

of the United States." L. O. Howard and C. L. Marlatt 165 
The Cricket on the Hearth, from "The Cricket on the 

Hearth." Charles Dickens 167 



SEWING 



Needles, from " Littell's Living Age "... 

Pins, from Chambers's "Book of Days" . 

The Cotton Plant, from " Chambers's Journal " 

The Romance of Cotton, from " Chambers's Journal " 

The Silkworm, from "History of Silk, Cotton, Linen 

The Flax. Hans Christian Andersen 

True Story of the Sewing-machine .... 



173 
174 
175 

177 
180 
184 

188 



THE HOME 



THE HOME 



HOUSEKEEPING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 

I had gone with my husband to live on a little estate 
of peat bog that had descended to me, all the way down 
from John Welsh, the Covenanter, who named a daughter 
of John Knox. That didn't, I am ashamed to say, make 
me feel Craigenputtock a whit less of a peat bog and a 
most dreary, untoward place to live at. In fact, it was 
sixteen miles distant on every side from all the conven- 
iences of life, shops, and even post office. 

Further, we were very poor, and further and worst, 
being an only child, and brought up to very great pros- 
pects, I was sublimely ignorant of every branch of useful 
knowledge, though a capital Latin scholar and a very fair 
mathematician. 

It behooved me in these astonishing circumstances to 
learn to sew. Husbands, I was shocked to find, wore their 
stockings into holes, and were always losing buttons, and 
/was expected to u look to all that." Also it behooved 
me to learn to cook! No capable servant choosing to live 
at such an out of the way place, and my husband having 
bad digestion, which complicated my difficulties. .The 
bread, above all, brought from Dumfries, " soured on 
his stomach," and it was plainly my duty, as a Christian 
wife, to bake at home. 

So I sent for Cobbett's u Cottage Economy " and fell to 
work at a loaf of bread. But, knowing nothing about 

3 



4 THE HOME 

the process of fermentation, or the heat of ovens, it came 
to pass that my loaf got put into the oven at the time 
that myself ought to have been put into bed. And I re- 
mained the only person not asleep in a house in the mid- 
dle of a desert. 

One o'clock struck! And then two!! And then three!!! 
And still I was sitting there in the midst of an immense 
solitude, my whole body aching with weariness, and my 
heart aching with a sense of forlornness and degradation. 

That I who had been so petted at home, whose com- 
fort had been studied by everybody in the house, who 
had never been required to do anything but cultivate my 
mind, should have to pass all those hours of the night 
watching a loaf of bread — which mightn't turn out bread 
after all ! 

Such thoughts maddened me, till I laid down my head 
on the table and sobbed aloud. It was then that some- 
how the idea of Benvenuto Cellini sitting up all night 
watching his Perseus in the furnace came into my head. 
Suddenly, I asked myself, " After all, in the sight of the 
upper Powers, what is the mighty difference between a 
statue of Perseus and a loaf of bread, so that each be the 
thing that one's hand has found to do ? The man's deter 
mined will, his energy, his patience, his resource, were 
the really admirable things of which his statue of Per- 
seus was the mere chance expression. If he had been 
a woman, living at Craigenputtock with a dyspeptic hus- 
band sixteen miles from a baker, and he a bad one, all 
these qualities would have come out more fitly in a good 
loaf of bread! 

I cannot express what consolation this germ of an idea 
spread over my uncongenial life during the years we lived 
at that savage place. 

— From " Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle." 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD'S HOUSE 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD'S HOUSE 

The place of our retreat was in a little neighborhood, 
consisting of farmers, who tilled their own grounds, and 
were equal strangers to opulence and poverty. As they 
had almost all the conveniences of life within themselves, 
they seldom visited towns or cities in search of superflui- 
ties. Remote from the polite, they still retained the 
primeval simplicity of manners ; and frugal by habit, they 
scarcely knew that temperance was a virtue. They 
wrought with cheerfulness on days of labor ; but ob- 
served festivals as intervals of idleness and pleasure. 
They kept up the Christmas carol, sent true-love knots on 
Valentine morning, ate pancakes on Shrove-tide, showed 
their wit on the first of April, and religiously cracked 
nuts on Michaelmas-eve. Being apprised of our approach, 
the whole neighborhood came out to meet their minister, 
dressed in their finest clothes, and preceded by a pipe and 
tabor; a feast was also provided for our reception, at 
which w r e sat cheerfully down ; and what the conversation 
wanted in wit was made up in laughter. 

Our little habitation was situated at the foot of a sloping 
hill, sheltered with a beautiful underwood behind, and a 
prattling river before ; on one side a meadow, on the other 
a green. My farm consisted of about twenty acres of 
excellent land, I having given a hundred pounds for my 
predecessor's good-will. Nothing could exceed the neat- 
ness of my little enclosures ; the elms and hedge-rows ap- 
pearing with inexpressible beauty. My house consisted 
of but one story, and was covered with thatch, which gave 
it an air of great snugness ; the walls on the inside were 
nicely whitewashed, and my daughters undertook to adorn 
them with pictures of their own designing. Though the 
same room served us for parlor and kitchen, that only 



b THE HOME 

made it the warmer. Besides, as it was kej)t with the 
utmost neatness, the dishes, plates, and coppers, being well 
scoured, and all disposed in bright rows on the shelves, 
the eye was agreeably relieved, and did not want richer 
furniture. There were three other apartments, one for 
my wife and me, another for our two daughters within 
our own, and the third, with two beds, for the rest of 
the children. 

The little republic to which I gave laws, was regulated 
in the following manner : by sunrise we all assembled in 
our own common apartment ; the fire being previously 
kindled by the servant. After we had saluted each other 
with proper ceremony, for I always thought fit to keep up 
some mechanical forms of good breeding, without which 
freedom ever destroys friendships, we all bent in grati- 
tude to that Being who gave us another day. This duty 
being performed, my son and I went to pursue our usual 
industry abroad, while my wife and daughters employed 
themselves in providing breakfast, which was always ready 
at a certain time. I allowed half an hour for this meal, 
and an hour for dinner : which time was taken up in inno- 
cent mirth between my wife and daughters, and in philo- 
sophical arguments between my son and me. 

As we rose with the sun, so we never pursued our labors 
after it was gone down, but returned home to the expecting 
family, where smiling looks, a neat hearth, and a pleasant 
fire were prepared for our reception. 

Nor were we without guests. Sometimes farmer Flam- 
borough, our talkative neighbor, and often the blind piper, 
would pay us a visit, and taste our gooseberry wine, for the 
making of which we had lost neither the receipt nor the 
reputation. These harmless people had several wa; s of 
being good company ; while one played, the other would 
sing some soothing ballad, — " Johnny Armstrong's Last 
Good-night," or "The Cruelty of Barbara Allen." The 



THOREAU S HOUSE NEAR WALDEN POND 7 

night was concluded in the manner we began the morning, 
my youngest boys being appointed to read the lessons of 
the day, and he that read loudest, distinctest, and best, was 
to have a half -penny on Sunday to put into the poor's box. 
— From "The Vicar of Wakefield," by Oliver Goldsmith. 



THOREAU'S HOUSE NEAR WALDEN POND 

Near the end of March, I borrowed an axe and went 
down to the woods by Walden Pond nearest to where I 
intended to build my house, and began to cut down some 
tall, arrowy white pines, still in their youth, for timber. 
The owner of the axe, as he released his hold on it, said 
that it was the apple of his eye ; but I returned it sharper 
than I received it. It was a pleasant hillside where I 
worked, covered with pine woods, through which I looked 
out on the pond, and a small open field in the woods where 
pines and hickories were springing up. The ice in the 
pond was not yet dissolved, though there were some open 
spaces, and it was all dark colored and saturated with water. 
There were some slight flurries of snow during the clays that 
I worked there ; but for the most part, when I came out 
onto the railroad, on my way home, its yellow sandheap 
stretched away, gleaming in the hazy atmosphere, and the 
rails shone in the spring sun, and I heard the lark and 
pewee and other birds already come to commence another 
year with us. They were pleasant spring days, in which 
the winter of man's discontent was thawing as well as the 
earth, and the life that had lain torpid began to stretch 
itself. 

I hewed the main timbers six inches square, most of the 
studs on two sides only, and the rafters and floor timbers 
on one side, leaving the rest of the bark on, so that they 
were just as straight and much stronger than sawed ones. 



8 THE HOME 

Each stick was carefully mortised or tenoned by its stump, 
for I had borrowed other tools by this time. My days in 
the woods were not very long ones ; yet I usually carried 
my dinner of bread and butter, and read the newspaper 
in which it was wrapped, at noon, sitting amid the green 
pine boughs which I had cut off, and to my bread was 
imparted some of their fragrance, for my hands were 
covered with a thick coat of pitch. Before I had done I 
was more the friend than the foe of the pine tree, though 
I had cut down some of them, having become better 
acquainted with it. Sometimes a rambler in the wood 
was attracted by the sound of the axe, and we chatted 
pleasantly over the chips which we had made. 

By the middle of April, for I made no haste in my 
work, but rather made the most of it, my house was framed 
and ready for raising. I had already bought the shanty 
of James Collins, an Irishman who worked on the Fitch- 
burg Railroad, for boards. James Collins's shanty was 
considered an uncommonly fine one. When I called to 
see it, he was not at home. I walked about the outside, 
at first unobserved from within, the window was so deep 
and high. It was of small dimensions, with a peaked 
cottage roof, and not much else to be seen, the dirt being 
raised five feet all around as if it were a compost heap. 
The roof was the soundest part, though a good deal warped 
and made brittle by the sun. Doorsill there was none, 
but a perennial passage for the hens under the door board. 
Mrs. C. came to the door and asked me to view it from 
the inside. The hens were driven in by my approach. 
It was dark, and had a dirt floor for the most part, dank, 
clammy, and aguish, only here a board and there a board 
which would not bear removal. She lighted a lamp to 
show me the inside of the roof and walls, and also that the 
board floor extended under the bed, warning me not to 
step into the cellar, a sort of dust hole two feet deep. In 



THOREAU'S HOUSE NEAR WALDEN POND 9 

her own words, they were " good boards overhead, good 
boards all around, and good windows," — of two whole 
squares originally, only the cat had passed out that way 
lately. There w r as a stove, a bed, and a place to sit, an 
infant in the house where it was born, a silk parasol, gilt- 
framed looking-glass, and a patent new coffee-mill nailed 
to an oak sapling, all told. The bargain was soon con- 
cluded, for James had in the meanwhile returned, I, to 
pay four dollars and twenty-five cents to-night, he, to 
vacate at five to-morrow morning, selling to nobody else 
meanwhile ; I, to take possession at six. It were well, he 
said, to be there early, and anticipate certain indistinct 
but wholly unjust claims, on the score of ground rent and 
fuel. This, he assured me, was the only encumbrance. 
At six I passed him and his family on the road. One 
large bundle held their all, — bed, coffee-mill, looking- 
glass, hens, — all but the cat. She took to the woods, and 
became a wild cat, and as I afterwards learned, trod in a 
trap set for woodchucks, and so became a dead cat at last. 
I took this dwelling the same morning, drawing the 
nails, and removed it to the pond's side by small cartloads, 
spreading the boards on the grass there to bleach and warp 
back again in the sun. 



THOREAU'S HOUSE NEAR WALDEN POND 

( Continued') 

I DUG my cellar in the side of a hill, sloping to the south, 
where a woodchuck had formerly dug his burrow, down 
through sumach and blackberry roots, and the lowest stain 
of vegetation, six feet square by seven deep, to a fine sand 
where potatoes would not freeze in any winter. The sides 
were left shelving, and not stoned ; but the sun having 
never shone on them, the sand still keeps its place. Under 



10 THE HOME 

the most splendid house in the city is still to be found the 
cellar where they store their roots as of old, and long after 
the superstructure has entirely disappeared, posterity 
remark its dent in the earth. The house is still but a 
sort of porch at the entrance of a burrow. 

At length, in the beginning of May, with the help of 
some of my acquaintances, rather to improve so good an 
occasion for neighborliness than from any necessity, I set 
up the frame of my house. I began to occupy my house 
on the 4th of July, as soon as it was boarded and roofed, 
for the boards were carefully feather-edged and lapped, 
so that it was perfectly impervious to rain, but before 
boarding I laid the foundation of a chimney at one end, 
bringing two cartloads of stones up the hill from the pond 
in my arms. I built the chimney after my hoeing in the 
fall, before a fire became necessary for warmth, doing my 
cooking in the meanwhile out of doors on the ground, 
early in the morning ; which mode I still think is in some 
respects more convenient and agreeable than the usual one. 
When it stormed before my bread was baked, I fixed a few 
boards over the fire, and sat under them to watch my loaf, 
and passed some pleasant hours in that way. In those 
da}^s, when my hands were much employed, I read but 
little, but the least scraps of paper which lay on the ground, 
my holder tablecloth, afforded me as much entertainment, 
in fact, answered the same purpose, as the "Iliad." 

Before winter, I built a chimney and shingled the sides 
of my house, which were already impervious to rain, with 
imperfect and sappy shingles made of the first slice of the 
log, whose edges I was obliged to straighten with a plane. 

I have thus a tight-shingled and plastered house, ten 
feet wide by fifteen long, with eight-feet posts, with a 
garret and a closet, a large window on each side, two trap 
doors, one door at the end, and a brick fireplace opposite. 
The exact cost of my house, paying the usual price for 



THOREAU S HOUSE NEAR WALDEN POND 



11 



such materials as I used, but not counting the work, all of 
which was done by myself, was as follows, and I give the 
details because very few are able to tell exactly what their 
houses cost, and fewer still, if any, the separate cost of the 
various materials which compose them. 

Boards $8.03| Mostly shanty boards. 

Refuse shingles for roof and sides . . 4.00 

Lathes 1.25 

Two second-hand windows with glass . 2.43 

One thousand old bricks .... 4.00 

Two casks of lime 2.40 That was high. 

Hair . . . . . . . . .31 More than needed. 

Mantle-tree iron 15 

Nails 3.90 

Hinges and screws 14 

Latch 10 

Chalk 01 

Transportation 1.40 \ l c ^ v ^ od P art 

In all .... $28.12£ 



These are all the materials except the timber, stones, 
and sand, which I claimed by squatter's right. I have 
also a small woodshed adjoining, made chiefly of the stuff 
which was left after building the house. 

There is some of the same fitness in a man's building 
his own house, that there is in a bird's building its own 
nest. Who knows but if men constructed their dwellings 
with their own hands, and provided food for themselves 
and families simply and honestly enough, the poetic faculty 
would be universally developed, as birds universally sing, 
when they are so engaged ? But alas ! we do like cow- 
birds and cuckoos, which lay their eggs in nests which 
other birds have built, and cheer no traveller with their 
chattering and unmusical notes. Shall we forever resign 
the pleasure of construction to the carpenter ? What does 
architect amount to in the experience of the mass of men ? 



12 THE HOME 

T never in all my walks came across a man engaged in 
so simple and natural an occupation as building his house. 
— Adapted from " Walden," by Henry D. Thoreau. 



HOMES OF OTHER TIMES 

THE EGYPTIAN HOUSE 

The pictures in the Theban tombs representing the 
small country houses of people of rank tell us much as 
to the outside of private houses of that time. 

One of these is a low, two-storied building, and like all 
the houses of this time, very bare on the outside. It has 
smooth, white-washed brick Avails, and the plain white 
surface is only varied by the projecting frames of the door 
and windows. The ground floor seems to have no win- 
dows, but the first story has, in addition to its two win- 
dows, a kind of balcony. The roof, above which we can 
see the trees of the garden behind, is very strange, — it is 
flat, but has a curious top, an oblique construction of 
boards which catches the cool north wind, and conducts it 
into the upper story of the house. 

In another picture we are shown in the open porch be- 
fore the house the vessels of wine, while the food is on 
tables adorned with garlands ; numerous jars, loaves, and 
bowls stand close by, hidden by a curtain from the guests 
who are entering. While the latter greet their host, a 
jar of wine with its embroidered cover is carried past, and 
two servants in the background, who seem to be of a very 
thirsty nature, have already seized some drinking bowls. 

The house itself lies in a corner of the garden, which is 
planted with dark green foliage, trees, figs, and pome- 
granates, and in which there is also an arbor covered with 
vines. The garden is surrounded by a wall of brownish 



HOMES OF OTHER TIMES 13 

brick pierced by two granite doors. Though the house 
has two stories it strikes us as very small ; it has only one 
door, which, as was customary at that time, is placed at 
one side of the principal wall, and not in the middle. 
The ground floor seems to be built of brick and to be 
whitewashed ; it is lighted by three small windows with 
wooden lattice work ; the door has a framework of red 
granite. The first story is in quite a different style : the 
walls are made of thin boards, the two windows are large, 
their frames project a little from the wall and are closed 
by brightly colored mats. This story contains, probably, 
the principal room of the house, the room for family life. 
A curious fact confirms this idea : the window hangings 
have a small square piece cut out at the bottom, allowing 
the women to see out of the windows without themselves 
being seen. The houses in Egypt to-day have an arrange- 
ment like this. The roof of the second story rests on 
little pillars and is open on all sides to the air. Ventila- 
tion is much thought of also in the other parts of the 
house, for the whole of the narrow front is left open, and 
can only be closed by a large curtain of matting. The 
open porch was the place in which the Egyptians enjoyed 
the pleasures of life ; here they could breathe the sweet 
breath of the north wind, and enjoy the flowers and trees 
of the garden. 

— Adapted from " Life in Ancient Egypt, 1 ' by Erman. 

In Ancient Egypt, the people loved cleanliness, and 
therefore those who did the washing were highly honored. 
Among the high officers of the king's court were the 
"chief bleacher," the "washer of Pharaoh," and the 
"chief washer of the palace." 

In private houses, the great washing day was an impor- 
tant event. Pictures of this time show some workmen 
busy at small tanks, washing and wringing, while the 



14 THE HOME 

chief washer is looking on to see that the worktnen do 
their work well. They beat the wet clothes with wooden 
staves, they sprinkle them, holding their arms up high. 
They fasten one end of the folded piece of linen over a 
post, put a stick through the other end and wring it with 
a good deal of force. This was the ancient substitute for 
the modern wringer. The men then stretch and fold up 
the linen, and the chief ivasher packs it up in a great bundle. 
But this was not all. In Egypt, wide robes with many 
folds of white linen were worn, and fashion required that 
these folds should be put in with great exactness and regu- 
larity. How this was done can only be guessed at. But 
there is in Florence a wooden instrument which it is 
thought was used to press these regular folds in the dresses. 
— Adapted from "Life in Ancient Egypt," by Erman. 



HOMES OF SAVAGES 

A BUSHMAN'S HOME 

A Bushman seeks his dwelling in caves and clefts of the 
rock, in sheltered spots beneath overhanging stones, or lies 
down in water-courses or in the deserted pit of an ant-bear. 
It is quite a sign of progress when he bends down the 
boughs of a shrub, and weaves them with other boughs and 
moss into a shelter from the wind, heaping up a lair of dried 
leaves and moss under it. Only in rare cases does he 
advance to hut building ; but when, owing to abundance of 
game, he selects some open district for a long stay, he con- 
descends to cover some poles with branches, rushes, or skins. 
The women then aspire even to the plaiting of coarse mats. 
But the Bushman's way of life never allows even these habi- 
tations to become permanent. 

As to household goods there is nothing to say, for what a 



HOMES OF SAVAGES 15 

Bushman cannot cany with him he has no use for. Even 
domestic animals seem to him a burden, of which he gets 
rid as soon as possible. Pottery is almost entirely absent, 
perhaps only because ostrich eggs make good vessels. 
Water is carried in them and buried in the sand to cool it. 

For his food the Bushman needs no appliance but fire, 
which he produces by rubbing hard and soft wood to- 
gether. The pieces of meat are usually thrown into the 
fire for a short time only. Often the game is not com- 
pletely drawn. If he has no game, he puts up with any- 
thing; lizards, snakes, — even those, it is said, whose poison 
he has extracted for his arrows, — frogs, caterpillars, grubs, 
he eats with relish. 

Honey is one of his favorite articles of food, and he 
looks upon any bees'-nest which he has discovered as the 
property of his family or his party. 

Even when surface vegetation is quite dried up he 
finds bulbs and roots by the remains of the plant, or by 
the hollow sound of the ground when tapped. In spite 
of its bitterness, he eats the wild watermelon, and its 
juice is often his only means of quenching his thirst. 

How much more comfortably might he live if he would 
sedulously turn to account his acquaintance with nature, 
Avhose gifts he has thoroughly investigated. No doubt 
he would then have to give up some of his free existence. 
And here is clearly the thread which binds him to his life. 
— From Ratzel's " History of Mankind." 



MALAY HOMES 

The most conspicuous peculiarity of the Malay house 
is that it is built on piles. 

This style may be found even in the European settle- 
ment. For this reason one of their cities has been called 
the Venice of Borneo, and another the Venice of Sumatra. 



16 THE HOME 

The reason for this style of building was to protect its 
inmates against the attacks of water, of man, and of 
beasts. So that now when there is greater public secur- 
ity, the pile dwellings have greatly decreased in numbers. 
Thus among one tribe of Borneo, all the houses formerly 
stood on piles of hard wood forty feet high. Nowadays 
there is free intercourse among the dwellers by all the 
rivers, and the houses have come down to the earth. At 
the most a small space is left between the ground and 
the bamboo flooring. 

By the sea, however, and on the banks of the larger riv- 
ers, pile dwellings have the same reason for existence as 
formerly. For they are a protection against floods and 
swamps, and they make it easier to get food from the water. 

In the Philippines there are houses of which the bamboo 
poles and wicker work are but little above the flood level 
of the water. These houses are set close together. There 
is only a narrow passage running between the rows ; and 
the village straggles far along the shore. 

When we find that some of the inhabitants of the inte- 
rior build their houses in this manner, then we know that 
they formerly dwelt by the rivers, and have continued to 
build in the same way. 

But there is a better reason still for building on piles. 
For when the tree stem with steps cut in it is hauled up, 
the building is like a castle with the drawbridge raised. 
This, in a head-hunting country especially, must add mate- 
rially to the safety of the home. 

Among the objections to pile building on dry land are 
want of cleanliness and defective stability. 

Safe dwelling places are also found in trees. The cen- 
tral shoot is cut off, and the surrounding branches remain. 
Or the stems alone of several neighboring trees sometimes 
serve as support for tree houses made from palm leaves and 
bamboo. 



HOMES OF SAVAGES 17 

Many Malay tribes place prickly bamboo stems around 
their huts for security. They stick sharp arrows in the 
ground and make pitfalls. Sentries are posted day and 
night. When Spanish troops looked for a fugitive among 
them they could do nothing to capture them. The 
only thing that they could do was to burn their houses. 
This really did not matter much, for they could rebuild 
them easily in a single day. 

A further characteristic of Malay architecture is the 
steep roof, often fifty feet high and coming far down. 

The thatch is of palm leaves. 

In the more elaborate houses the walls are prettily 
wattled with palm fibres. The gable end often bears buf- 
falo heads carved in wood, and other emblems. 

In windy uplands the roofs are protected by poles from 
being blown off. 

The interior arrangements vary with the degree of civ- 
ilization. They depend also upon the character of the 
dwelling, whether occupied jointly or severally, whether 
the families occupy several apartments or one in common. 
In some cases the house is from two hundred and forty to 
two hundred and seventy feet in length. Forty or fifty 
families live here together, but in separate rooms. 

In another tribe four to six families only occupy the 
house, but they all live together in one room. 

Against the wall stands a large earthenware vessel or a 
large bamboo with the partitions of all the knots knocked 
out except the last. In one tribe the strength of the girls 
is measured by the number of such vessels that they can 
bring from the spring to the house. 

Mats and cushions lie in one corner. In another, women 
and girls are occupied in peeling fruit. Nets, hooks, fish- 
ing tackle, are piled up in another. Spears hang from 
the walls. The middle of the room is the reception room. 
Civilization is shown in a few stools without backs, of 



18 THE HOME 

bamboo wicker work, for guests. The natives sit cross- 
legged on the floor. 

Strange as it may seem, this last paragraph is an exact 
description of the palace of one of their chiefs. 

Light enters in the daytime only through gaps in the 
wall. As a rule lights are not burned at night for fear 
of attracting ghosts, but some of the tribes have candles 
of resin, others shell lamps with rush wicks. 

Most of the Malays spend the greater portion of their 
life on the water, and build house-like boats for this reason. 
— Adapted from Ratzel's " History of Mankind." 



HOMES OF THE HALF CIVILIZED 

THE HOME OF THE INDIAN 

Among by far the greatest number of tribes the mov- 
able tent of leather or bark known as the wigwam served 
for a dwelling. The Algonquin women cut long shoots 
of birch and fir, the men cleared a round or square space 
with their snowshoes, and heaped up the snow wall so that 
the upper ends met at a slant and were covered with large 
pieces of birch bark ; an entrance was left to be covered 
with a bear skin. Inside, the floor was thickly strewn 
with twigs, if possible from the fragrant balsam, and the 
hut was ready. The whole work took on the average 
about three hours. 

In New England there were simple huts, semicircular 
in plan ; in California, of complete beehive buildings. 

Among the Iroquois, who were better builders, the walls 
consisted of logs bound firmly together, and the roof of 
rafters bound with branches. The whole was covered on 
the outside with bark, while all around the interior were 
benches spread with mats. Beneath the roof was the 



HOMES OF THE HALF CIVILIZED 19 

store loft. But these were houses inhabited by the whole 
kindred. 

In the South the houses were more airy, in many places 
being only a roof to keep off the rain. This kind of an 
Indian house may still be seen in Central and South 
America. 

THE HOME OF THE MODERN ESKIMO 

We did not travel much that day, having sledged with- 
out a break for thirteen hours. We halted about seven 
o'clock on the north side of the Sound, where we built a 
cosey little snow hut in a suitable, well-sheltered drift. It 
w r as constructed in the usual Eskimo fashion, of large 
blocks cut out of the snowdrift, put together so as to form 
a solid cupola over the space below, sufficient to hold us 
all. The dogs always sleep in the open, winter as well as 
summer, and in all kinds of weather. They were, there- 
fore, simply tied to a walrus lance, rammed into the ground 
just outside the hut. 

We will now peep inside. All the fissures to the roof and 
Avails are closed with snow, and the lamps are lighted. To 
get in, it is necessary to crawl through the little hole on 
the lee side. When of the Caucasian race, great care has 
to be exercised not to wreck the proud structure, for the 
opening is only intended for tiny Eskimo bodies. Inside 
a comparatively high temperature prevails. This causes 
the snow in the roof to melt, whereby the structure is 
strengthened, as the blocks then sink a little, freeze 
together, and form on the inside a hard polished dome 
of ice. The water thus formed by degrees, trickles 
slowly down the walls of the hut toward the floor. 
There it forms the most beautiful glittering ice taps. 
At night, when the cooking is over, the melting ceases, 
as the lamps then only burn with a faint flame. 

But as we enter, the cooking is in full swing. Under 



20 THE HOME 

the little stone vessels the flames are made as long as the 
saucer-shaped lamps with moss wicks and blubber will 
allow. On the raised platform at the back we are in- 
stalled, whilst opposite sit the old man and his woman. 
All of us are airily dressed. It would be absurd to sleep 
in our stiff, wet garments when we can throw them off 
and crawl into soft, warm reindeer skins instead. 

The old woman mostly sees to the cooking. In order 
to find out whether the water for the tea boils she now 
and again puts her hand flat into it. This is a way of 
taking boiling temperature which at first I do not like. 
But at last I come to the conclusion that it is no worse 
than handling the meat Ave are to eat, and I reconcile 
myself to my fate. 

We had expected to find natives at this place, but all 
that we could discover in the gloom of midnight was a 
long-deserted, tumbledown snow hut. We set to work 
at once to repair it, while the old man and his woman 
began to dig in the snow under a huge boulder, hoping 
to find, according to the old charitable Eskimo custom, 
seal blubber for the aid of the needy traveller in general. 
Long and deep they dug, and blubber there was, sure 
enough, in plenty. The old man cut up some in bits for 
the dogs, whilst the old woman prepared other for our 
lamps, making the pieces soft by chewing them with her 
teeth before putting them on the lamp saucers. 

In a short time we were snugly at home under our 
snow roof, chatting of the events of the day, and eating 
the remains of our reindeer steak. 

In the midst of our merry group lay a huge piece of 
walrus meat, the somewhat " gamey " smell of which left 
no doubt of its respectable age. Beside it lay an axe, 
which was used whenever any man or woman wanted to 



HQMES OF THE CIVILIZED 21 

satisfy their hunger, for the meat was frozen hard and 
wanted to be chopped. At the side of the meat stood a 
huge block of ice, clear as crystal, whence all obtained 
water. In the centre a hole had been cut. In the bottom 
of this a stone was placed, on which there burned with a 
good flame a piece of moss intersected with blubber. As 
the ice melted at the sides, the water collected at the 
bottom in a small clear pool, when it was consumed by 
the many parched mouths, by sucking it up through 
hollow reindeer marrow-bones. 

The whole party was throughout in the cheeriest and 
most talkative mood. No toasts were drunk nor speeches 
made, but the chatting and laughing of everybody pro- 
ceeded so merrily that the incident furnished another 
proof of the contentment of these people with their lot. 

— From "In the Land of the Northernmost Eskimo," By Eivind 
Astrup, First Officer in both the Peary Expeditions. The Fortnightly. 



HOMES OF THE CIVILIZED 

THE JAPANESE HOUSE AND ITS CUSTOMS 

The Japanese house differs from that of other nations 
chiefly in its want of substantiality. It is fixed to no 
foundations. It merely rests upon unhewn stones placed 
below. It usually consists of a panel work of wood, either 
unpainted or painted black on the outside. Its roof may 
be shingled, tiled, or thatched. But no chimney breaks 
its sky line, for fires are seldom used. 

The worst side of the house is turned toward the street, 
the artistic toward the garden. At least two sides have no 
permanent walls, but, like the inside partitions, are merely 
screens fitting into grooves. 

The rooms are for the most part small and low. They 



22 THE HOME 

are without recesses except in the guest room, where there 
are two. In one of these are hung the pictures, and ris- 
ing up to meet them, the figure of a household god, an 
incense burner, or a vase of flowers. The other is used 
for a closet. 

Almost every Japanese house has a veranda. 

No expensive paint work stands ready to chip and scratch 
and look shabby. Everything remains as it left the car- 
penter's plane, usually smooth but not polished. If the 
workman thought the bark on the wood was pretty, he 
would leave even this. He would certainly make no 
attempt to remove any artistic markings caused by the 
ravages of a worm or larvae. 

Besides the guest room there was usually a special room 
set apart for the tea ceremony. This was not always in 
the building, but often in one apart from the house in the 
garden. 

No carpets, tables, bedsteads, wardrobes, or cupboards 
find a place in the Japanese house. Nor does the Japanese 
require chairs, for he is only comfortable when resting on 
his knees and heels on a cushion. But he must have his 
fire vessel and his tobacco tray. The portable fire vessel 
throws out slight heat, and also serves to light the 
pipes. It contains small pieces of charcoal. Whenever 
a caller comes, summer or winter, the first act of hospi- 
tality is to place one of these before him ; even in shops 
it is brought in and placed on a mat whenever a visitor 
enters. 

The only other articles of furniture are the square 
wooden frame which is placed over this stove, the pillow, 
and the lantern. No Japanese would think of sleeping 
without having this burning throughout the night. 

The consumption of lanterns in Japan is enormous with- 
out counting the export trade. Every house has dozens 
for use inside and for going out at night. The latter are 



HOMES OF THE CIVILIZED 23 

placed in a rack in the hall. Each bears the owner's 
name or else his crest. 

— From " Japan and its Art," by Marcus B. Huish. 



THE JAPANESE BATH 

The Chinese do not like water at all, but the Japanese 
have almost a mania for it, especially when it is boiling hot. 
Every inn has a big tub perpetually on the boil. The tub is 
common property. You go into the bath-room, undress, 
throw a ladle of hot water over you, lather yourself with 
soap, throw more hot water over till all the soap is re- 
moved, and then you climb into the bath, and stay there 
for one hour or two hours if you like, or until somebody 
else wants to come in. It is hardly in accordance with 
our ideas to get into a bath where half a dozen people 
have been before you. But the Japanese think nothing 
of it. I always made inquiry, that I might be the first 
user of the bath that day. 

And here is a point that we might learn from the Japan- 
ese. The reason that we take cold after a hot bath in the 
daytime is that we do not take it hot enough. If only 
the water is as near boiling as possible, there is no danger 
of getting cold afterward. The Japanese revel in these 
hot baths. They take them three or four times a day. 
Once a Japanese called upon me and apologized in the 
beginning of the conversation for being so unmannerly and 
dirty. He had only had time to take two baths that day. 
— From " Next to Godliness," Chambers's Journal, April, 1809. 



THE KITCHEN 



THE KITCHEN 



MRS. POYSER'S KITCHEN 

The great barn doors are thrown wide open, and men 
are busy there mending the harness, under the superintend- 
ence of Mr. Goby, the " whittaw," otherwise saddler, who 
entertains them with the latest gossip. It is certainly rather 
an unfortunate day that Aleck, the shepherd, has chosen 
for having the whittaws, since the morning turned out so 
wet ; and Mrs. Poyser has spoken her mind pretty strongly 
as to the dirt which the extra number of men's shoes brought 
into the house at dinner-time. Indeed, she has not yet 
recovered her equanimity on the subject, though it is now 
nearly three hours since dinner, and the house floor is per- 
fectly clean again — as clean as everything else in that won- 
derful house-place, where the only chance of collecting a 
few grains of dust would be to climb on the salt-coffer, and 
put your finger on the high mantel-shelf on which the glit- 
tering brass candlesticks are enjoying their summer sine- 
cure ; for at this time of the year, of course, every one goes 
to bed while it is yet light, or at least light enough to dis- 
cern the outlines of objects after you have bruised your 
shins against them. Surely nowhere else could an oak 
clock-case and an oak table have got to such a polish by 
the hand ; genuine " elbow polish," as Mrs. Poyser called 
it, for she thanked God she never had any of your var- 
nished rubbish in her house. Hetty Sorrel often took the 
opportunity, when her aunt's back was turned, of looking 

27 



28 THE KITCHEN 

at the pleasing reflection of herself in those polished sur- 
faces, for the oak table was usually turned up like a screen, 
and was more for ornament than for use ; and she could 
see herself sometimes in the great round pewter dishes 
that were ranged on the shelves above the long deal dinner 
table or in the hobs of the grate, which always shone like 
jasper. 

Everything was looking at its brightest at this moment, 
for the sun shone right on the pewter dishes, and from their 
reflecting surfaces pleasant jets of light were thrown on 
mellow oak and bright brass ; no scene could have been 
more peaceful, if Mrs. Poyser, who was ironing a few things 
that still remained from the Monday's wash, had not been 
making a frequent clinking with her iron and moving to 
and fro whenever she wanted it to cool ; carrying the keen 
glance of her blue gray eye from the kitchen to the dairy, 
where Hetty was making up the butter, and from the 
dairy to the back kitchen, where Nancy was taking the 
pies out of the oven. 

— Adapted from "Adam Bede," by George Eliot. 



THE ROMAN KITCHEN 

Sometimes the Roman Kitchen was characterized by 
luxury and beauty scarcely equalled even in modern days. 
Its walls were frescoed with pictures ; its floor was of 
stones. All the cooking utensils were of the finest bronze 
lined with silver and with gold. And each instrument 
was made to represent some animal. Some gridirons, for 
instance, were representations in silver of skeletons of 
fish ; the frying-pans represented spiders, tortoises, and 
various other animals. The water kettle was often the 
head of an elephant using his trunk for a spout. 



THE EVOLUTION OF FIRE 29 



THE EVOLUTION OF FIRE 

There are now no tribes so savage that they do not 
know how to make fire, and we have no evidence of a 
race in distant ages who did not at least know something 
of fire. And yet, though its use is so ancient, it is certain 
that once upon a time there did exist, people who knew 
neither the use of fire nor how to make it. 

How did they learn ? Nature taught him. In many 
regions, the hot streams of lava from the mouths of vol- 
canoes, as they descend the mountain side, are apt to set 
on fire the dry plants and trees. Lightning quite fre- 
quently kindles the dry trunks of trees which it strikes. 
When his first fear had subsided, he would regard this 
fire as heaven sent, and try by every means in his power 
to keep it burning. Even to this day there are tribes in 
Australia who know but little more, and send to other 
tribes for new fire if theirs goes out. 

The first fires were probably made by friction, a method 
still employed in many savage tribes. 

The Romans and Greeks, our own- Indians, the Eskimos, 
and some of the tribes of Asia and of Africa make their 
fires by striking stones and other objects violently to- 
gether. By some flint and steel, or, perhaps, flint and 
pyrites (one kind is called fool's gold), or two bits of 
quartz were used. 

Matches, the modern method of striking fire, are one 
of the triumphs of this century. Formerly boxes con- 
taining eighty-four cost a quarter. Now they are so 
cheap that their use has become universal, and it is cal- 
culated six matches a day is an average allowance for 
each person in the United States. 



30 THE KITCHEN 



ANCIENT FORESTS AND MODERN FUEL 

A visit to a coal mine is not without value, especially to 
any one who has some little idea of mining operations. 
The descent through hot air, foggy with floating particles 
of coal, the darkness and gloom, but very imperfectly 
revealed by candles or lamps, the crowd of trucks, horses, 
and men at the bottom, and the incessant clanking of the 
machinery, all these prepare the visitor for his work. 
Once landed below, he is led past vast furnaces burning 
day and night to create a draught of air, on which the very 
life of all those employed underground depends ; he is told 
that air close to him, passing into the chimney a little above 
his head, over these fires, is highly explosive, so that a 
single spark would involve destruction ; he is introduced, 
first through broad and then into narrower paths, where the 
roof has once come down or the floor has been squeezed up ; 
he sees men working with difficulty, picking a deep groove 
in a black wall ; he hears, when away from the work that is 
going on, a dull singing noise of gas always oozing through 
the coal ; at one place, he is shown where tons of roof have 
recently come down, at another, cracks where hogsheads of 
fiery gas are issuing with rapidity, poisoning and rendering 
dangerous all the air of the mine ; lie is taken along miles of 
a vast black tunnel cut through the mineral; the way is to 
him a perfect labyrinth, though really designed and exe- 
cuted on an admirable system ; and at last he is brought 
somehow or other to a pit-bottom, whence he is lifted, 
greatly to his satisfaction, to the outer world ; and finally, 
he makes his way to a warm bath, and endeavors to remove 
as far as possible the marks of his visit from his skin and 
lungs. 

The floor of the coal — in other words, the earth on 
which we tread in a coal mine — is generally a bed of 



ANCIENT FORESTS AND MODERN FUEL 31 

bluish clay; and if a specimen of this clay is brought up 
and examined, it will generally be found loaded with in- 
numerable, black, stringy markings, crossing each other in 
every direction. These were once the rootlets of plants 
that either grew in this clay as a vegetable soil, or were 
matted up with it into a rough mass before the plants had 
decayed. Overhead there is generally sandstone ; and on 
the roof, where the sandstone and coal were once in con- 
tact, we may often see long flat markings, the stems of 
ancient trees that had not entirely decayed, when the sands 
buried the whole mass. Thus the coal lies upon a clay on 
which plants grew, and is covered with material that con- 
tains innumerable marks of similar vegetation. 

It is impossible not to conclude from all the circum- 
stances connected with coal deposits, that this mineral is 
the remains of an ancient vegetation, growing on or near 
the place where we now find it. Even the coal itself, black 
and opaque as it seems, yields under the searching power 
of the microscope some evidence of its origin. When 
ground down to the thinnest possible slice, and examined 
under a high power, traces are seen here and there of 
spiral vessels, such as belong to woody fibre, and of some 
other marks, proving a complicated vegetable structure. 
Fruits, such as nuts of strange forms, and even delicate 
flowers have been detected. Examples of each of the two 
principal divisions of vegetable structure have been identi- 
fied from the mode of growth. Insects and other animals 
have been found, and proof exists in abundance that coal 
was formed near land, if not actually grown on the soil, 
with which it is now buried. 

From a pile of rubbish near the shaft of a coal mine, it 
would be difficult to take up a dozen specimens of that 
peculiar hardened blue clay called shale, that is so abun- 
dant in such places, without finding in them impressions 
of leaves ; and a very little examination and comparison 



32 THE KITCHEN 

would suffice to enable any one accustomed to plants to 
refer these to some kind of fern. Why these should be so 
invariably fern leaves, instead of leaves of the forest trees, 
which one might have expected to form at least some part 
of the deposit, is perhaps the first question that would 
suggest itself to any one who was accustomed to find in the 
earth remains of a former world. 

A more thorough examination, and a visit to local mu- 
seums where such things are collected, arranged, and 
exhibited, would, however, show that, though not en- 
tirely absent, leaf fragments of other plants than ferns are 
so exceedingly rare, that they may be practically disre- 
garded in considering the important contributories of coal. 

Either of two causes may have brought about this result. 
The other plants may have been absent altogether or they 
may have been less easily preserved when buried, perhaps 
under water, in the conditions favorable for making coal 
out of wood. Experiment has shown that, in fact, the 
leaves of our forest trees do decay much more rapidly than 
fern leaves, and thus there may have been large accumu- 
lations of them that have disappeared or gone to make coal ; 
but the vast multitude of ferns seems of itself to show 
that these were really predominant and a further study of 
the trunks of the trees points to the same conclusion. 



ANCIENT FORESTS AND MODERN FUEL 

( Continued) 

Let us now endeavor to reproduce an ancient forest, such 
as existed in and near our island at the time when the coal 
was in preparation, and, as far as the materials will justify, 
let us also people this forest with animal life. 

Such a forest certainly abounded with lofty plants of 



ANCIENT FORESTS AND MODERN FUEL 33 

ferns, like those we now call fern trees, and to such an 
extent that in many places it probably contained little else. 
As, however, in Norfolk Island and other parts of the 
Antipodes where such vegetation now prevails, the out- 
skirts of the thick forests may have exhibited a consider- 
able admixture of other trees, and here and there groups 
where the ferns were absent. Pines of large dimensions 
were certainly among these occasional trees. 

Let us look a little more closely at the trees which seem 
to have been the chief agents in supplying material for coal. 
There are many portions of large trunks, many markings 
of the bark, many casts of the interior, and not a few frag- 
ments which show the texture of the wood, the springing 
of the branches, and the attachment of the roots. Occa- 
sionally, the structure of the wood can be examined under 
the microscope ; but this is a rare exception, for the stone 
is generally not in a state to admit of this minute exami- 
nation. 

There are three kinds of trees, exceedingly unlike one 
another, that appear to have combined to form a very large 
proportion of the actual coal. We can, in a general way, 
understand the appearance and nature of these three kinds 
of ancient forest trees. 

Crowds of lofty trunks, not scaled like pines, but fluted 
like the columns of a temple, rise before us in large groups, 
each trunk terminating in a magnificent crest of fronds, 
some drooping over the trunk, some curling in curious 
contortions toward the light. Whether of the dark green 
of some of our ferns, or the bright metallic tint of others, 
these ferns, forming the capitals of natural cokimns, must 
have presented a strange appearance. Thickly grouped, 
they must almost have excluded light from, the ground ; 
and thus there was, perhaps, only a small amount of other 
vegetation, except where an opening occurred. Rapid 
growth and equally rapid decay in a moist atmosphere 



34 THE KITCHEN 

and under a clouded sky would accumulate a vast amount 
of vegetable matter in such forests in a short time, and it 
would be left to the insects to destroy the fallen wood. 
Should it happen that the land was swampy, and insects 
were not abundant, the trees might have accumulated to 
form a thick mass of half-rotten matter. 

Those parts of the singular tree we are now considering 
that were buried in the earth are not at all less remarkable 
than the trunk. Large circular roots pass off in every 
direction from the base of the trunk, like the spokes of a 
wheel. Each main root has its offsets of smaller size, and 
each one of these its leaflike long rootlets, spreading in 
every direction, and producing that complicated mass of 
tendrils found in the beds of blue clay that serve as floor 
to the coal. Thus this tree, instead of seeking food from 
the air by a complicated apparatus of branches, twigs, and 
true leaves, obtained what nourishment it required from 
the earth, and passed this food by circulation through the 
lofty vertical trunk to the fronds at the top. The roots 
and rootlets often remain in the clay. They seem to have 
been little changed even when the trunk and fronds were 
converted into coal and they have lost all traces of their 
form as well as texture. 

Another very different kind of tree demands our atten- 
tion. Lofty and having the proportions of pines and firs, 
such trees shoot up into the clouds on a mountain side, and 
yet present all the peculiarities of leaf vegetation of the 
club mosses. New Zealand and other moist insular cli- 
mates present us with club mosses, like dwarf trees, a few 
inches high ; and coal seems to show us these magnified 
into forest vegetation. There are great trunks twenty to 
fifty feet high, branching and forking in the manner 
peculiar to club mosses ; but the trunks are scarred like 
pines. The stem is like that of a fern, and grows by 
additions to the extremity ; the leaves, or whatever they 



ANCIENT FORESTS AND MODERN FUEL 35 

may be called, — delicate, feathery filaments, pointed at 
the end, — shoot out from the stem (there are no twigs) ; 
the fruit grows at the extremity of the branches, and 
resembles the very long cone of a fir. Trees such as these 
are not rare ; but they do not seem to have been so numer- 
ous as the other kind we attempted to describe. Their 
remains are found in nearly the same localities. 

A third singular form of vegetation. is before ils, — a 
gigantic reed, made up like a bamboo, of numerous joints, 
hollow and cylindrical, now only to be seen crushed and 
flattened, and often only known by the markings it has 
left on stone. This tree was, perhaps, limited to swampy 
places ; but it was certainly exceedingly common. It is 
met with wherever coal is found and the varieties of detail 
are very great. Some naturalists have thought that it 
resembled those marsh plants called horse tail (Equisitum), 
so common in our own country. Leaves seem to have 
proceeded in a fringe-like form from each joint, and 
branches were given off at intervals. Nothing is known 
of the fruit. These trees were sometimes thirty or forty 
feet in height, and two or three in diameter. The trunk 
was deeply fluted, and at each joint there was a flat plate 
or diaphragm crossing the stem. 

With these plants, the remains of a few insects have been 
found, including among them a scorpion. There were 
also a number of small lizards. Little else is known of 
the inhabitants of the land at this distant period. There 
may have been many whose remains were not preserved. 
There may also have been many whose remains are safely 
buried, but have not yet been turned up. Judging from 
the number and variety of additions within the last few 
years, since attention was directed to the subject, the last 
hypothesis is probable enough. 

How have these ancient forests been converted into 
coal available for fuel ? How have they been buried under 



36 THE KITCHEN 

such thick masses of stone and clay ? How have they been 
broken up into compartments and tilted at high angles, 
as they are found to be in our coal mines ? And lastly, 
how have they been brought into their present accessible 
position ? 

The essential difference between wood and coal con- 
sists in the replacement of the water always found in fresh 
vegetation, by gases never found there in a free state. It 
is almost impossible, perhaps quite impossible, to deprive 
wood by artificial drying so completely of moisture that 
the part still left behind shall not interfere seriously with 
the value of the material as fuel ; for, so long as any water 
is present, the whole of it has to be evaporated into steam 
before available heat is obtained, and the heat lost in this 
process must be deducted from the heat-giving power of 
the fuel. Coal contains no water ; but, on the contrary, 
it holds a certain proportion of hydrogen combined with 
carbon, and some oxygen gas ; but these help combustion 
rather than hinder it, and are useful for other purposes. 
There is also another difference between wood and coal, 
indicated by the closer texture of the latter. The cellular 
condition of the wood is in fact altered, and the water 
contents of the cells removed or decomposed before coal 
is produced. This chemical change has never been pro- 
duced artificially, either in the case of green wood, dried 
wood, the black wood obtained from fens and bogs or 
various deposits in the earth, nor with such vegetation as 
peat. All these still contain water ; they do not contain 
gas, and they are not dense and compact stony substances. 

Nature would seem to require a long period of time 
and certain conditions of heat and pressure to bring about 
the required result. The woody matter originally accumu- 
lated has been buried with clay and sand. The whole 
together has been sunk down into the earth, and has then 
been gradually covered up with newer deposits, until it 



THE BUNDLE OF MATCHES 37 

has reached a depth where the temperature is high enough 
for the chemical change needed. For thousands and tens 
of thousands of years, the ancient forests have been thus 
exposed, and at length the work is done, and coal has 
replaced wood, sand has become sandstone, and clay shale. 
Who can say how long the beds may have remained after 
this change, or when the movements took place that have 
brought the whole again to the surface ? 

— From " Temple Bar. 1 ' 



THE BUNDLE OF MATCHES 

There was once upon a time a bundle of Matches, and 
they were very proud of their high descent. Their genea- 
logical tree — that is to say, the great fir tree, of which 
each of them was a chip — had been once a very stately 
old tree in the forest. But now these Matches lay upon 
the shelf between a Flint and Steel and an old iron Sauce- 
pan, and to them they told most wonderful stories about 
their younger days. 

" Ah, while we were still on the green bough, then were 
we indeed on the green bough ! " said they. " Pearl tea, 
morning and evening, — that was the dew ; the sun shone 
on us the whole day, when he did shine ; and all the little 
birds were obliged to amuse us with many songs or touch- 
ing stories. We could easily see that we were rich ; for 
the other trees were dressed in green only in summer, 
whilst our family possessed the means of wearing green 
both winter and summer. But the woodcutters came, 
that was the Great Revolution, and our family was divided 
and split up ; he whom we looked upon as our chief 
support got a place as a mainmast in a large ship that 
could sail round the world if it liked ; and the other 
branches were placed in various situations ; and now our 



d» THE KITCHEN 

vocation is to give light ; and therefore we, people of high 
pedigree as we are, have come here into the kitchen." 

" Ah, my fate has been very different," said the iron 
Saucepan, near which the Matches lay. " From the very 
moment that I came into the world I've been scoured and 
boiled, oh, how often ! I always side with the respectable 
and conservative ; and belong, in reality, to the very first 
in the house. My sole pleasure is to lie down, nice and 
clean, after dinner, and to have a little rational talk 
with my comrades ; but if I except the Bucket, that now 
and then goes into the yard, we live here in a very retired 
and quiet life. Our only newsmonger is the Coal-scuttle ; 
but he talks so demagogically about ' the people ' and ' the 
government,' that a short time ago an old earthen Pot was 
so shocked at his conversation that it dropped down and 
broke into a thousand pieces. Oh, he belongs to the 
Eadicals, let me tell you." 

" Now you are talking too much," said the Flint, and it 
struck against the Steel so that the sparks flew out. 

" Shall we not have a merry evening ?" 

"Yes; let us talk about who is of highest rank and 
most genteel," said the Matches. 

"No, I have no wish to talk about myself," said the 
earthenware Dish ; " let us have a refined and sentimental 
evening. We will all tell things we have seen and gone 
through. I will begin. I will relate a tale of everyday 
life ; one can fancy one's self so well in similar situations, 
and that is so interesting. 

" On the shores of the Baltic, beneath the Danish 
beeches— " 

"That is a splendid beginning!" said all the Plates. 
" That will certainly be a very interesting story ! " 

"There, in a quiet family, I passed my youth. The 
furniture was polished, the floor washed, and clean muslin 
curtains were put up every fortnight." 



THE BUNDLE OF MATCHES 39 

" What an interesting story yon are telling us ! " said 
the Duster. 

" Yes, that is true, indeed," said the Water-pail, much 
moved, and in such broken accents that there was quite a 
splash on the floor. 

And the Dish went on with the story, and the end was 
as good as the beginning. 

All the Plates rattled with delight, and the Duster took 
some green parsley off the dresser and crowned the Dish, 
for he knew this would annoy the others ; and, thought 
he, if I crown her to-day, she will crown me to-morrow. 

"Now let us dance ! " said the Tongs, beginning imme- 
diately ; and, good heavens ! how she could fling her leg 
up in the air, — almost as high and as gracefully as 
Mademoiselle Ellsler. The old Arm-chair covering in 
the corner burst at the sight. 

"Am I not to be crowned now?" said the Tongs ; and 
so, forthwith, she got a laurel wreath, too. 

" What a low set ! " said the Matches to themselves. 

It was now the Tea-urn's turn to sing something ; but 
she said she had taken cold, — indeed, she could only sing 
when excited ; but that was nothing but pride, for she 
would only sing when standing on the drawing-room table 
among ladies and gentlemen. 

Behind, in the window, sat an old Pen, that the maid 
used to write with. There was nothing remarkable about 
it, except that it was too deeply immersed in ink ; but 
that was just what it was proud of, and made a fuss 
about. " If the Tea-urn will not sing," it said, " why, 
she must leave it alone ; but there is a nightingale in a 
cage ; she can sing. It is true she has been taught 
nothing. However, this evening we will speak ill of 
nobody." 

"I find it most improper," said the Tea-kettle, who was 
kitchen chorus-singer, and step-brother to the Tea-urn, 



40 - THE KITCHEN" 

" I find it most improper that such a foreign bird should 
he patronized. Is that patriotic ? I will ask the Coal- 
scuttle, and let him decide the matter." 

"As to me, I am vexed," said the latter, "thoroughly 
vexed ! Is this the way to spend the evening ? Would 
it not be far better to turn the whole house upside down, 
and to establish a new and natural order of things ? In 
this way each one would find his proper place, and I would 
undertake to direct the change. That would be something 
like fun for us." 

" Yes ; let us kick up a row ! " cried all at once. 

At the same moment the door opened ; it was the house- 
maid. All were silent ; not one dared to utter a sound. 
Yet there was not a single grease-pot but knew what he 
could do, and of what consequence he was. 

" Yes, if I had chosen," thought they, " fine work there 
Avould have been this evening." 

The maid then took the Matches to get a light. Bless 
us, how they sparkled, and then stood all in a blaze. 

u Now may everybody see," thought they, " that we are 
first in rank. How we shine ! What lustre ! What 
light ! " — and so saying, they went out. 

— From "Fairy Tales," by Hans C. Andersen. 



FOODS AND COOKING 



FOODS AND COOKING 



THE EFFECT OF FOODS 

The strength of every other member 
Is founded on your stomach timber ; 
The qualms or raptures of your blood 
Rise in proportion to your food. 

That great Achilles might employ 
The strength designed to ruin Troy, 
He dined on lions' marrows, spread 
On toast of ammunition bread. 

But by his mother sent away 
Among the Thracian girls to play, 
Effeminate he sat and quiet, 
Strange product of a cheese-cake diet. 

Observe the various operations 

Of food and drink in several nations : 

Was ever Tartar cruel 

Upon the strength of water gruel ? 

But who shall stand his rage and force 

If first he rides, then eats his horse ? 

Salads and eggs and lighter fare 
Turn the Italian spark's guitar, 
And if I take Don Congreve right, 
Pudding and beef make Britons fight. 

— Matthew Prior. 
43 



44 FOODS AND COOKING 

THE PROTEIDS 

FOODS OF COMBUSTION AND NUTRITION 

Our food is divided into two very distinct sets : some, 
which are destined to be burned, and which are called 
foods of combustion; others, which are destined to nourish 
the body, and which are called foods of nutrition. 

The dishes on all well-regulated tables should be ar- 
ranged accordingly, — foods of combustion on one side, 
foods of nutrition on the other. It cannot be enough 
merely to give your guests a treat : you ought to provide 
them with everything necessary for the proper fulfilment 
of the claims within ; and if you give some nothing but 
combustibles, leaving the others no share of fuel, how will 
they be able to manage? Few think about this, however; 
not even cooks, to begin with, who as far as fire is con- 
cerned, find they have had quite enough to do with it in 
their cooking ; and as for the guests, when they have had 
their dinner they go away satisfied, as a matter of course, 
quite as well provided for as if the mistress of the house 
had made her calculations, pen in hand, while writing out 
the bill of fare, with a view to combustion and nutrition. 
Now how is that ? 

It is because the two sorts of foods are, for the most 
part, met with together in everything we eat, so that we 
swallow them at once in one mouthful, and have there- 
fore no need to trouble ourselves further on the subject. 
There is our bit of bread, for instance. What is bread 
made of ? Of flour. Bread, then, must contain all that 
was previously in the flour. Very good. Now I will 
teach you how to discover in flour the food of combus- 
tion on the one hand and the food of nutrition on the 
other. 

Take a handful of flour and hold it under a small 



THE PROTEIDS 45 

stream of water; knead it lightly between your fingers. 
The water will be quite Avhite as it leaves it, carrying 
away with it a fine powder, which you could easily collect 
if you were to let the water run into a vase, where the 
powder would soon settle to the bottom. That powder is 
starch — the same starch as washerwomen use for starch- 
ing linen, and which our grandfathers employed in pow- 
dering their wigs. Now starch is an excellent combustible. 
People have succeeded, by means which I will not offer 
to detail here, in ascertaining almost exactly what it is 
made of, and they have found in it three of our old 
acquaintances, — ■ oxygen, hydrogen, and carbon, — com- 
bined together in such proportions that one hundred 
ounces of starch contain as follows : — 

Ounces 

Carbon 45 

Hydrogen 6 

Oxygen 49 

100 

I give you the calculation in round numbers, so as not 
to burden your memory with fractions, and I will do the 
same with the other sums I shall have to go through 
to-day, this being, let me tell you, an arithmetical day. 

Starch, then, is of course a first-rate combustible. 
Indeed, one may almost consider it the parent, as it 
were, of at least half our foods of combustion, for if it 
loses a portion of its carbon, so that there remain but 
thirty-six ounces of it in the hundred of starch, our starch 
is turned into something else ; now can you guess what 
that something is ? Neither more nor less than sugar! 
Witness the grand manufactories at Colmar, in France, 
where bags of starch are converted into casks of syrup by 
a process of nature alone ; so that the inhabitants of the 
neighborhood sweeten their coffee at breakfast with what 
might have been made into rolls, had it been left alone. 



46 FOODS AND COOKING 

All this astonishes you. What would you say then if I 
were to tell you that your pocket-handkerchief is com- 
posed of entirely the same materials as starch, and in the 
same proportions too, and that if a chemist were to take a 
fancy, by way of a joke, to make you a tumbler of sugar 
and water or a small glass of brandy out of it, he could 
do so if he chose. Wonders are found, you see, in other 
places besides fairy tales ; and since I have begun this 
subject I will go on to the end. Know, then, that from 
the log on the fire, to the back of your chair, everything 
made of wood is in pretty nearly the same predicament as 
your pocket-handkerchief ; and if people are not in the 
habit of making casks of syrup out of the trees they cut 
down in the woods, it is only, I assure you, because such 
sugar would cost more to make than other sorts, and 
would not be so good in the end. Should some one ever 
invent and bring to perfection an economical process for 
doing it thoroughly well, sugar-makers will have to be 
on their guard ! 

To return to our flour. As soon as all the starch is 
gone out of it, there remains in your hand a whitish, elas- 
tic substance, which is also sticky or glutinous, so that it 
makes a very good glue if you choose ; and hence its name 
of gluten, which is the Latin word for glue. 

One hundred ounces of it contain as follows : — 

Ounces 

Carbon 63 

Hydrogen 7 

Oxygen 13 

Nitrogen 17 

100 

Observe the last material named. It is a new arrival, of 
which I shall soon have something to say. 

You have probably never seen any one bled, which is 
a pity, as it happens; for if you had, you might have 



THE PROTEIDS 47 

noticed (provided you had had the courage to look into 
the basin) that after a few seconds the blood which had 
been taken away separated itself of its own accord into 
two portions ; the one a yellowish, transparent liquid, the 
other an opaque red mass floating on the top, and which 
is called the coagulum of the blood or clot. This coagu- 
lum owes its color to an infinity of minute red bodies of 
which we will speak more fully by and by, and which arc 
retained, as if in a net, in the meshes of a peculiar sub- 
stance to which I am now going to call your attention. 

That substance is whitish, elastic, and sticky ; and when 
dried becomes brittle and semi-transparent. It keeps for 
an unlimited time in alcohol, putrefies very soon in water 
exposed to the air, and is easily dissolved in a wash of soda 
or potash. Finally, one hundred ounces of it contain 
as follows : — 

Ounces 

Carbon 63 

Hydrogen 7 

Oxygen 13 

Nitrogen 17 

100 

This substance is called fibrine. It goes to form the 
fibres of those muscles which are contained in a half- 
formed state in the blood. 

You are laughing by this time I know, and I also know 
the reason why. I have told you the same story twice 
over. You have not forgotten my wearisome description 
of gluten, and here I am, saying exactly the same thing 
of fibrine ! You conclude I am dreaming, and have made 
a mistake ! 

But no, I am wide awake, I assure you, and mean what 
I say. And if these details are the same in the two cases, 
it is for the simple reason that the two bodies are one and 
the same thing ; gluten and fibrine being in reality but 



48 FOODS AND COOKING 

one substance, so that were the most skilful professor to 
see the two together dried, he would be puzzled to say 
which came from the flour, and which from the blood. 
I mentioned that our muscles existed in a half-formed 
state in the blood. Here is something further. The 
fibres of muscles exist previously in full perfection, in the 
bread we eat ; and when you make little round pills of 
the crumbs at your side, it is composed of fibres stolen 
from your muscles which enable the particles to stick to- 
gether ; and I say stolen from your muscles, because they 
are the gluten which you ought to have eaten. I hope 
the thought of this may cure you of a foolish habit, which 
is sometimes far from agreeable to those who sit by you. 

This, then, is the first great food of nutrition, and you 
may make yourself perfectly easy about the fate of those 
who eat bread. If little girls should now and then have to 
lunch on dry bread, I do not see that they are much to be 
pitied. There is the starch to keep up their fire, and the 
gluten for their nourishment, and that is all they require. 
The porter above is the only one who finds fault. And 
in these clays porters have become more difficult to please 
than the masters themselves. 

FOODS OF COMBUSTION AND NUTRITION 

( Continued) 

Then as to babies who drink nothing but milk, you per- 
haps wish to know where they get their share of fibrine. 

And I am obliged to own there is none in the milk 
itself ; but, I dare say, you know curdled milk or rennet ? 
The same separation into two portions has taken place 
there which occurs in the blood when drawn from the 
arm ; underneath is a yellowish, transparent liquid, — that 
is the whey ; above a white curd of which cheese is made, 
and which contains a great part of what would have made 



THE PROTEIDS 49 

butter. By carefully clearing the curd from all its buttery 
particles you obtain a kind of white powder which is the 
essential principle of cheese, and to which the pretty name 
of casein is given because caseits is the Latin for cheese. 
I shall not trouble you now with details about casein ; 
but there is one thing you ought to know. One hun- 
dred ounces of casein contain as follows : — 

Ounces 

Carbon 63 

Hydrogen 7 

Oxygen 13 

Nitrogen 17 

100 

Exactly like gluten and fibrine! 

Now, then, you can understand that no particular credit 
is due to the blood for manufacturing muscles out of the 
cheese of the milk which a little baby sucks. He has 
much less trouble than the manufacturers at Colmar have 
in turning their starch into sugar; because in his case the 
neAv substance is not only composed of the same materials 
as the old one, but contains them in exactly the same pro- 
portion also. 

We have a second food of nutrition, you see,- and I 
must warn you that it is not found in milk only. It ex- 
ists in large quantities in peas, beans, lentils, and kidney 
beans, which are actually full of cheese, however strange 
this may seem to you. It would not surprise you so 
much, however, if you had been in China and had tasted 
those delicious little cheeses which are sold in the streets 
of Canton. They cannot be distinguished from our own. 
Only the Chinese do without milk altogether. They stew 
down peas into a thin pulp. They curdle this pulp just 
as we do milk, and in the same way they squeeze the curd 
well, salt it, and put it into moulds — just as we do — and 
out comes a cheese at last — a real cheese, composed of 

E 



50 FOODS AND COOKING 

real casein! Put it into the hands of a chemist, and ask 
him the component parts of a hundred grains of it, and 
he will tell you as follows : — 

Ounces 

Carbon 63 

Hydrogen 7, etc. 

I stop there; for you surely know the list by this time! 

There is a favorite conjuring trick, which always amuses 
people, though it deceives no one. The conjurer shows 
you an egg, holds it up to the light that you may see it is 
quite fresh, then breaks it ; and — crack — out comes a poor 
little wet bird, who flies away as well as he can. 

This trick is repeated in earnest by nature every day, un- 
der our very eyes, without our paying any attention to it. 
She brings a chicken out of the egg, which we place under 
the hen for twenty-two days, instead of eating it in the 
shell as we might have done, and we view it as a matter 
of course. Yet we do not say here that the bird may not 
have come down from the conjurer's sleeve, or the hen 
may not have brought it from under her wing. It was 
really in the egg, and its own beak tapped against the shell 
from within and cracked it. 

How has this come about ? No one can have put that 
beak, those feathers, those feet, the whole little body, in 
short, into the egg while the hen was sitting upon it, that 
is certain. It is equally certain, then, that the liquid 
inside the egg must have contained materials for all those 
things beforehand; and if Nature could manufacture the 
bones, muscles, eyes, etc., of the chicken out of that liquid 
while in the egg, she would probably have found no more 
difficulty in manufacturing your bones, muscles, eyes, etc., 
from it had you swallowed the egg yourself. 

Here, then, is an undeniable food of nutrition. 

It is called albumen, which is the Latin word for white 
of egg. It is easily recognized b} r a very obvious charac- 



THE PROTEIDS 51 

teristic. When exposed to a temperature varying from 
165° to 180° of heat, according to the quantity of water 
with which it is mixed, albumen hardens and changes 
from a colorless transparent liquid into that opaque white 
substance which everybody who has eaten " boiled eggs " 
is perfectly well acquainted with. 

I will only add one trifling detail. One hundred ounces 
of albumen contain as follows : — 

Ounces 

Carbon 63 

Hydrogen — 

You can fill up this number yourself, can you not ? And 
knowing the 7 of hydrogen, you may guess what follows! 
After what we have talked of last time, here is already an 
explanation of the chicken's growth. But let us go on. 

You recollect that yellowish liquid I spoke about, which 
lies underneath the clot, or coagulum of the blood? I 
Avill tell you its name, that we may get on more easily 
afterward. It is called the serum, a Latin word which, 
for once, people have not taken the trouble of translating, 
and which also means whey. Put this serum on the fire, 
and in scarcely longer time than it takes to boil an egg 
hard, it will be full of an opaque white substance, which 
is the very albumen we are speaking of. Our blood, then, 
contains white of egg; it contains, in fact, — if you care to 
know it, — sixty-five times more white of egg than fibrine, 
for in 1000 ounces of blood, you will find 195 of albumen, 
and only 3 of fibrine ; of casein, none. 

Nevertheless we eat cheese from time to time. And we 
generally eat more meat than eggs, and meat is principally 
composed of fibrine ! I should be a good deal puzzled to 
make you understand this, if we had not our grand list 
to refer to. 

Ounces 

Carbon 63 

Hydrogen 7, etc. 



52 FOODS AND COOKING 

Fibrine, casein, albumen, they are all the same thing in 
the main. It is one substance assuming different appear- 
ances, according to the occasion ; like actors who play- 
several parts in a piece, and go behind the scenes from 
time to time to change their dresses. The usual appear- 
ance of the aliment of nutrition in the blood is albumen ; 
and in the stomach, which is the dressing-room of our 
actors, fibrine and casein disguise themselves ingeniously 
as albumen ; trusting to albumen to come forward after- 
wards as fibrine or casein, when there is either a muscle 
to be formed or milk to be produced. 

Know, moreover, that albumen very often comes to us 
ready dressed, and it is not only from eggs Ave get it. As 
we have already found the fibrine of the muscle and the 
casein of milk in vegetables, so we shall also find there, 
and that without looking far, the albumen of the egg. It 
exists in grass, in salad, and in all the soft parts of vege- 
tables. The juice of root-vegetables in particular contains 
remarkable quantities of it. Boil, for instance, the juice 
of a turnip, after straining it quite clear, and you will see 
a white, opaque substance produced, exactly like that which 
you would observe under similar circumstances in the serum 
of the blood ; real white of egg, that is to say, — to call it 
by the name you are most familiar with, — with all its due 
proportions of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen. 

I wonder whether you feel as I do, dear child ; for I 
own that I turn giddy almost when I look too long into 
these depths of the mysteries of nature. Here, for instance, 
is the substance which is found everywhere, and every- 
where the same — in the grass as in the egg, in your blood 
as in turnip-juice ! And with this one sole substance 
which it has pleased the great Creator to throw broadcast 
into everything you eat, He has fashioned all the thousand 
portions of your frame, diverse and delicate as they are ; 
never once undoing it, so to speak, to rearrange differently 



THE PROTEIDS 53 

the elements of which it is composed. From time to time 
it receives some slight impulse which alters its appearance 
bat not its nature, and that is all. As the chemist found 
it in the bit of salad, so he will find it again in the tip of 
your nose, if you will trust him with that for examination. 
We are proud of our personal appearance sometimes, and 
smile at ourselves in the looking-glass ; we think the body 
a very precious thing ; but yet when we look deeply into 
it, we find it merely so much charcoal, water, and air. 

FOODS OF COMBUSTION AND NUTRITION 

{Continued) 

This reminds me that we have not yet made acquaint- 
ance with the new personage who was lately introduced 
upon the scene. Nitrogen, I mean. He plays too impor- 
tant a part to be allowed to remain in obscurity. 

You have already learnt that oxygen united with hydro- 
gen produces water. Combined with nitrogen it produces 
air ; but in that case there is no union of the two. They 
are merely neighbors, occupying between them the whole 
space extending from the earth's surface to forty or fifty 
miles above our heads; together everywhere, but every- 
where as entire strangers to each other as two Englishmen 
who have never been introduced ! I should be a good deal 
puzzled to say what nitrogen does in the air : he is there 
as an inert body, and leaves all the business to the oxygen. 
When we breathe, for instance, the nitrogen enters our 
lungs together with its inseparable companion, but it goes 
out as it went in, without leaving a trace of its passage. 
Nevertheless, as sometimes happens among men, the one 
who does nothing takes up the most room. Nitrogen 
alone occupies four-fifths of the atmosphere, where it is 
of no other use than to moderate the ardent activity of 
king oxygen, who would consume everything were he alone. 



54 FOODS AND COOKING 

I can compare it to nothing better than to the water yon 
mix with wine, which would be too fiery for your inside 
if you drank it by itself. This is what nitrogen does. 
It puts the drag on the car of combustion ; as in society 
the large proportion of quiet people put the drag on the 
car of progress (let us for once indulge ourselves in talk- 
ing like the newspapers !) ; and such people are of definite 
use, however irritating their interference may appear in 
some cases. The world would go on too rapidly if there 
were nothing but oxygen among men. We have quite 
enough in having a fifth of it ! 

But what in the world am I talking about ? Let us get 
back to nitrogen as fast as we can ! 

We must not imagine there is no energy in this quiet 
moderator of oxygen. Like those calm people who become 
terrible when once roused, our nitrogen becomes extremely 
violent in his actions when he is excited by another sub- 
stance, and is bent on forming alliances. Sometimes the 
usually cold neighbor unites itself to oxygen in the closest 
bonds ; in which case the two together form that power- 
ful liquid, aqua-fortis, of which you may have heard, and 
which corrodes copper, burns the skin, and devours indis- 
criminately almost everything it comes in contact with. 
Combined with hydrogen, nitrogen forms ammonia, one of 
the most powerful bodies in existence, and one for which 
you would very soon learn to entertain a proper respect, 
if somebody were to uncork a bottle of it under your nose. 
Finally, nitrogen and carbon combined produce a quite 
foreign substance (cyanogen), resembling neither father 
nor mother in its actions and powers. This impertinent 
fellow, combining with hydrogen in his turn, produces 
prussic acid, the most frightful of poisons ; one drop of 
which placed on the tongue of a horse strikes it dead as if 
by lightning. 

You perceive that you must not trust our worthy friend 



THE PROTEIDS 



00 



too far. You have learnt, however, elsewhere, that it is not 
equally formidable in all its combinations. Those very sub- 
stances which, when paired off into small separate groups, 
destroy all before them, constitute, all four together, that 
precious aliment of nutrition of which we are formed. 
People are in the habit of estimating the nourishing power 
of our food by the amount of nitrogen it contains. In fact, 
nitrogen seems to be a substance especially inclined toward 
everything that has life. His three comrades wander in 
mighty streams, so to speak, through every part of creation ; 
but he, except in the vast domain of the atmosphere, where 
he reigns in such majestic repose, is rarely met with, except 
in animals, or in such portions of plants as are destined for 
the support of animal life. 

The animal himself can do nothing with it, unless it has 
been previously absorbed and digested by the vegetable, and 
the vegetable in its turn could get no good from it, were it 
to remain isolated and indifferent in the bosom of the 
atmosphere. It is only when it has formed one of those 
combinations I have been telling you about, and more par- 
ticularly the second, which produces ammonia, that it 
fairly enters upon the round of life. 

The vegetable kingdom, therefore, is simply the great 
kitchen in which the dinner of the animal kingdom is 
being constantly made ready ; and when we eat beef, it is, 
in fact, the grass which the ox has eaten, which nourishes 
us. The animal is only a medium which transmits intact 
to us the albumen extracted in his own stomach from the 
juices furnished to him in the fields. He is the waiter of 
the eating-house ; the dishes which he brings us have been 
given him already cooked in the kitchen. But to appre- 
ciate properly the service he renders us we must remember 
that the dishes to be obtained from grass are veiy, very 
small, and that it would be a great fatigue to the stomach 
if it could only get at such tiny scraps at a time ; as, alas ! 



56 FOODS AND COOKING 

has sometimes happened to the famine-stricken poor, who 
have tried in vain to support life from the grass in the field. 
But these minute dishes are brought to us in the mass 
whenever we eat beef, and our stomachs benefit accord- 
ingly. Do not forget this, my child ; and when your 
mother asks you to eat meat, obey her with a good grace. 

EVOLUTION OF METHODS OF COOKING 

Without doubt the earliest method of cooking was roast- 
ing. Charles Lamb has suggested its possible origin in 
his essay on Roast Pig. 

After roasting, the idea of baking probably developed. 
Sir John Lubbock gives this account of the way that the 
Tahitians baked the hog. 

" They made a small pit in the ground, which they 
paved with large stones, over which they then lighted 
fires. When the stones were hot enough they took out 
the embers, raked away the ashes, and covered the stones 
with green cocoanut leaves. The animal having been 
cleaned and prepared was wrapped in plantain leaves and 
covered with hot embers, on which they again placed bread- 
fruit and yams, also wrapped in plantain leaves. Over 
this they spread the rest of the embers, and more hot 
stones, and finally covered all with earth. The meat thus 
cooked is very tender and full of gravy." 

Boiling food is said to be unknown to certain tribes even 
at the present day. The most primitive pots were made, 
not from metal, but skin, or bark, or wood. One of the 
Indian tribes were called in their own language " stone 
boilers," from the way in which they boiled their meat. 
A hole in the ground was lined with the skin of the ani- 
mal to be cooked. Into this they poured water, hot stones, 
and the meat. 



THE PROTEIDS 57 



THE ROAST PIG 



Mankind, says a Chinese manuscript, which my friend 
M. was obliging enough to read and explain to me, for the 
first seventy thousand ages ate their meat raw, clawing or 
biting it from the living animal, jnst as they do in Abys- 
sinia to this day. This period is not obscurely hinted at 
by their great Confucius in the second chapter of his 
"Mundane Mutations," where he designates a kind of 
golden age by the term Cho-fang, literally the Cooks' 
Holiday. The manuscript goes on to say that the art of 
roasting, or rather broiling (which I take to be the elder 
brother), was accidentally discovered in the manner follow- 
ing. The swineherd, Ho-ti, having gone out into the 
woods, one morning, as his manner was, to collect beech- 
nuts for his hogs, left his cottage in the care of his eldest 
son Bo-bo, a great lubberly boy, who, being fond of playing 
with fire, as younkers of his age commonly are, let some 
sparks escape into a bundle of straw, which, kindling 
quickly, spread the conflagration over eveiy part' of their 
poor mansion, till it was reduced to ashes. Together with 
the cottage (a sorry antediluvian makeshift of a building you 
may think it), what was of much more importance, a litter 
of new-farrowed pigs, no less than nine in number, per- 
ished. China pigs have been esteemed a luxury all over 
the East, from the remotest periods that we read of. Bo-bo 
was in the utmost consternation, as you may think, not so 
much for the sake of the tenement, which his father and 
he could easily build up again with a few dry branches 
and the labor of an hour or two, at any time, as for the 
loss of the pigs. While he was thinking what he should 
say to his father, and wringing his hands over the smok- 
ing remnants of one of those untimely sufferers, an odor 
assailed his nostrils, unlike any scent which he had before 



58 FOODS AND COOKING 

experienced. What could it proceed from ? — not from the 
burnt cottage, he had smelt that smell before — indeed, 
this was by no means the first accident of the kind that 
had occurred through the negligence of this unlucky 
young firebrand. Much less did it resemble that of any 
known herb, weed, or flower. A premonitory moistening 
at the same time overflowed his nether lip. He knew not 
what to think. He next stooped down to feel the pig, if 
there were any signs of life in it. He burnt his fingers, 
and to cool them he applied them in his booby fashion to 
his mouth. Some of the crumbs of the scorched skin had 
come away with his fingers, and for the first time in his 
life (in the world's life, indeed, for before him no man had 
known it) he tasted — crackling ! Again he felt and fum- 
bled at the pig. It did not burn him so much now, still 
lie licked his fingers from a sort of habit. The truth at 
length broke into his slow understanding that it was the 
pig that smelt so, and the pig that tasted so delicious ; and 
surrendering himself up to the new-born pleasure, he fell 
to tearing up whole handfuls of the scorched skin with the 
flesh next it, and was cramming it down his throat in his 
beastly fashion, when his sire entered amid the smoking raf- 
ters, armed with retributory cudgel, and finding how affairs 
stood, began to rain blows upon the young rogue's shoul- 
ders, as thick as hailstones, which Bo-bo heeded not an} T 
more than if they had been flies. The tickling pleasure 
which he experienced in his lower regions had rendered 
him quite callous to any inconveniences he might feel in 
those remote quarters. His father might lay on, but he 
could not beat him from his pig, till he had fairly made an 
end of it, when, becoming a little more sensible of his situ- 
ation, something like the following dialogue ensued : — 

" You graceless whelp, what have you got there devour- 
ing ? Is it not enough that you have burnt me down three 
houses with your dog's tricks, and be hanged to you ! but 



THE PROTEIDS 59 

you must be eating fire, and I know not what — what have 
you got there, I say ? " 

" O father, the pig, the pig ! do come and taste how nice 
the burnt pig eats." 

The ears of Ho-ti tingled with horror. He cursed his 
son, and he cursed himself that he ever should beget a son 
that should eat burnt pig. 

Bo-bo, whose scent was wonderfully sharpened since 
morning, soon raked out another pig, and fairly rending it 
asunder thrust the lesser half by main force into the fists 
of Ho-ti, still shouting out, " Eat, eat, eat the burnt pig, 
father, only taste — O Lord ! " — with such like barbarous 
ejaculations, cramming all the while as if he would choke. 

Ho-ti trembled in every joint, while he grasped the abomi- 
nable thing, wavering whether he should not put his son 
to death for an unnatural young monster, when the crac- 
kling scorched his fingers, as it had done his son's, and 
applying the same remedy to them, he in his turn tasted 
some of its flavor, which, make what sour mouths he would 
for a pretence, proved not altogether displeasing to him. 
In conclusion (for the manuscript here is a little tedious), 
both father and son fairly sat down to the mess and never left 
off till they had despatched all that remained of the litter. 

Bo-bo was strictly enjoined not to let the secret escape, 
for the neighbors would certainly have stoned them for a 
couple of abominable wretches, who could think of improv- 
ing upon the good meat which God had sent them. Never- 
theless, strange stories got about. It was observed that 
Ho-ti's cottage was burnt down now more frequently than 
ever, nothing but fires from this time forward. Some 
would break out in broad day, others in the night-time. 
As often as the sow farrowed, so sure was the house of 
Ho-ti to be in a blaze ; and Ho-ti himself, which was the 
more remarkable, instead of chastising his son, seemed to 
grow more indulgent to him than ever. At length, they 



60 FOODS AND COOKING 

were watched, the terrible mystery discovered, and father 
and son summoned to take their trial at Pekin, then an 
inconsiderable assize town. Evidence was given, the ob- 
noxious food itself produced in court, and verdict about 
to be pronounced, when the foreman of the jury begged 
that some of the burnt pig, of which the culprits stood 
accused, might be handed into the box. He handled it, 
and they all handled it ; and burning their fingers, as Bo-bo 
and his father had done before them, and nature prompting 
to each of them the same remedy, against the face of all 
the facts, and the clearest charge which judge had ever 
given, — to the surprise of the whole court, townsfolk, stran- 
gers, reporters, and all present, without leaving the box, 
or any manner of consultation whatever, they brought in a 
simultaneous verdict of Not Guilty. 

The judge, who was a shrewd fellow, winked at the 
manifest iniquity of the decision, and when the court was 
dismissed, went privily and bought up all the pigs that 
could be had for love or money. In a few days his lord- 
ship's town house was observed to be on fire. The thing 
took wing, and now there was nothing to be seen but 
fires in every direction. Fuel and pigs grew enormously 
dear all over the district. The insurance offices one and 
all shut up shop. People built slighter and slighter every 
day, until it was feared that. the very science of architec- 
ture would in no long time be lost to the world. Thus 
this custom of firing houses continued, till in process of 
time, says my manuscript, a sage arose, like our Locke, 
who made a discovery that the flesh of swine, or indeed 
of any other animal, might be cooked (burnt, as they 
called it) without the necessity of consuming a whole 
house to dress it. Then first began the rude form of a 
gridiron. Roasting by the string or spit came a century 
or two later, I forget in whose dynasty. By such slow 
degrees, concludes the manuscript, do the most useful and 



COOKING 61 

seemingly the most obvious arts make their way among 
mankind. 

Without placing too implicit faith in the account above 
given, it must be agreed that, if a worthy pretext for so 
dangerous an experiment as setting houses on fire (espe- 
cially in these days) could be assigned in favor of any 
culinary object, that pretext and excuse might be found 
in Roast Pig. 

— From "The Essays of Elia," by Charles Lamb. 



COOKING 

She knew that the gift of cooking was not vouchsafed 
by God to her ; but sometimes she would do her best by 
intellect to win it. Whereas, it is no more to be won 
by intellect than is divine poetry. An amount of strong, 
quick heart is needful and understanding must second it, 
in the one art as in the other. 

— From "Lorna Doone," by R. D. Blackmore. 

THE SALMON 

The salmon is a most beautiful fish. Even those who 
see it only in the markets cannot fail to mark its fine 
shape. It is plainly "built for speed." 

Like other fish its eggs are first laid and then fertilized 
in the water. For this reason it is quite possible to raise 
them by hand. 

The salmon mother averages from seven to eight hun- 
dred eggs to every pound of her oavii flesh. In about a 
month after they are fertilized, two little black eyes can 
be seen. But it is three months or more before the little 
fish bursts its shell. Even then the egg remains attached 
to its body for six weeks or so, until finally it is all ab- 
sorbed. 



62 FOODS AND COOKING 

When it is two years old, it only measures nine or ten 
inches in length. 

Up to this time the whole of its life has been passed in 
a river. But jnst as soon as it is long enough and strong 
enough, it seeks the sea. Here it lives on the fat of the 
water for several years. But finally it remembers the 
quiet spot where it was born, leaves the sea for the river, 
and there deposits its eggs. Now, or rather a little ear- 
lier, is the time to catch it, for on its return voyage it is 
a lean and lank individual which it is almost impossible 
to recognize as the plump and fat salmon who ascended 
the stream. 

If it reaches the sea again, it speedily recovers its fat, 
only to lose it again on its next yearly pilgrimage to the 
spawning ground. 

These singular journeys are undertaken by other food 
fishes, notably the mackerel, shad, and herring. 

For many years the United States government by her 
Fish Commission has kept up the supply of salmon by artifi- 
cial breeding. The adult fish are caught just as they reach 
the spawning field. The roe and milt are mixed together 
in sea water. The eggs are then placed in a narrow 
trough of running water. They are in wire cloth trays 
one above the other and about four deep. Just as fast 
as they hatch, they wriggle through the holes of the wire 
into the space below the tray. Here they remain until 
all are hatched. They are now placed in rearing tanks, 
fed with boiled corn meal, chopped meat, fly maggots, 
etc., until they are a year old. 

Then they are planted in likely streams and live the 
usual life of salmon who have not received so much intel- 
ligent care in their babyhood and yet have managed to 
survive. 



COOKING 63 



EGGS 



An egg and to bed. 

much after an < 

" Old English Sayings." 



You must drink as much after an egg as after an ox. 



He that buys land buys stones ; 

He that buys flesh buys bones ; 

He that buys eggs buys many shells ; 

But he that buys good fresh milk, why he buys nothing 

else ! 

— Adapted from an Old English Rhyme. 

The egg was held in great veneration by the Egyptians, 
to whom it symbolized the world. Ostrich eggs were hung 
in their temples and were a part of the tribute exacted by 
them from conquered nations. The Persians, too, regarded 
it in the same way, and during a yearly festival held in the 
spring, it was customary for friends to exchange eggs. 

Egg cups, much like those that we use to-day, were found 
in the excavation of Pompeii. The Romans, however, 
roasted their eggs, following in this, after all, the usual 
custom of ancient times. For, as many have noticed, the 
heroes of Homer ate roasted, not boiled, meat. 

In our own day the egg is still used in many religions 
as a symbol of a new life. From this has originated the 
custom of giving eggs for Easter presents. 

THE LAMENT OF AN OYSTER 

'Tis the voice of the oyster, 
I hear him complain : 
I can't live in this place, 
Here's the sandstorm again. 
I was sitting to rest 
'Mid the rocks and the tiles 
They had made for a home, 



64 FOODS AND COOKING 

But this sand, how it riles ! 
It gets into my shell 
And the delicate fringe 
That I use when I breathe, 
And I can't shut my hinge 
When the grit lodges there. 
So the crabs come at will, 
Since my poor mouth is open, 
They feed and they kill. 
I've complained to a friend, 
Who quite" understands, 
But he can't undertake 
To abolish the sands. 

Thus the native made moan, 
Though I took up the brown 
Bread and butter and lemon 
And swallowed him down ! 

— From "Punch." 

He was a very valiant man who first ventured on the 
eating of oysters. 

— King James I. (of England). 

Oysters and mushrooms are things which cannot prop- 
erly be called food, but mere provocatives of the appetite, 
causing those who are already full to eat more, a some- 
thing, no doubt, very pleasant to gluttons. 

— Seneca. 

What is the composition of oysters ? Was Seneca right 
or wrong ? 

The poor Britons, there is some good in them after 
all — they produce an oyster ! 

— Sallust. 



FOODS — THE CARBOHYDRATES 65 

FOODS — THE CARBOHYDRATES 

STARCH 

We are all familiar with flour, potatoes, Indian corn, 
and therefore we know to some extent what starch is, for 
all these things contain starch, along with water and a few 
other ingredients. 

But the starch of one plant differs from that of another 
in size and shape. For instance, the hardness of rice is 
due to the fact that the rice granules are very small, with 
sharp corners which fit closely together ; but potato starch 
is large and round, with spaces between the grains filled 
with water, and so forms a rather soft mass. 

The granules of starch are each surrounded with a sac 
of a material hard to digest. Much cooking, however, 
results in the rupture of this coat. The material thus set 
free is changed into sugar by the saliva, the pancreatic, and 
the intestinal juices, and is therefore an excellent fuel food. 
It should not, of course, make the exclusive diet of any one. 
Even when . it occupies the subordinate position which 
belongs to it, it must be thoroughly cooked. The starches 
are used in several important manufactures. Dextrine or 
British gum is made by putting starch to a great heat, and 
is preferred to gum arabic, because it is not so liable to curl 
up the stamps or other paper prepared with it. 

Starch is used, too, to make glucose or grape sugar. 
This is made by acting on the starch with sulphuric acid. 
Linen rags are used for the same purpose. It is wonder- 
ful how few things are altogether useless at the present 
day. 

RICE IN JAPAN 

Rice sets the tone so completely in the diet of the Japan- 
ese that the chief meals are called morning, noon, and even- 



66 FOODS AND COOKING 

ing rice. Poor people in the mountains who have to feed 
on buckwheat, wheat, and barley at least use rice as food 
for children, for the old, and for the sick. 

The Japanese hold rice to be the best form of nourish- 
ment, and the white radish or the fruit of the egg-plant as 
a seasoning for every meal. 

Where rice thrives, the people are fortunate. North 
Japan passes for poor, because it has to buy its rice. 

— From Ratzel's "History of Mankind." 

RICE CULTURE 

Rice lands were originally always on the banks of rivers, 
first, because in this way it was easy to flood the fields as 
required and, second, because of the cheapness and conven- 
ience of river transport in sending the grain to the mill. 
Nowadays, especially in Mexico, rice is easily grown in 
the interior, for it is now so easy to irrigate any land at 
will. 

The rice plantations of Georgia and South Carolina are 
surrounded by a dam. This has flood gates and trunks 
through which the river water reaches the fields. 

The seed, carefully selected, is soavii from April to the 
middle of May. It is then lightly covered with soil, and 
the field flooded with water. In less than a week the seed 
begins to sprout. The water is then drawn off. When 
the plants appear like needles above the ground, the 
" sprout flow " is turned on. In less than a week it is 
again drawn off. When the plants are six weeks old, 
and again ten days later, they are lightly hoed. 

The hoeing scene is very picturesque. The men have 
on the fewest clothes and broadest hats possible. The 
women are dressed in short, scanty skirts, leggins, and 
either a broad-brimmed hat or a kerchief. Both men and 
women are smoking a primitive pipe made from a stick on 



FOODS — THE CARBOHYDRATES 67 

which is a piece of punk. This is done to keep away the 
sand-flies. 

After the completion of this hoeing comes the " stretch" 
flow. The young plants, which are now several inches 
high, are nourished and strengthened by the water, which 
silts off all the weeds. When the water is allowed to 
subside, the upper leaves of the plant, now longer than the 
height of the water, float upon its surface, making lovely 
waving lines of exquisite green, a harmony of color and 
form never forgotten by those who have seen it. 

After the water has been entirely drawn off, the ground 
is allowed to dry out. Then comes the time of the deep 
hoeing. 

The last hoeing is given when the plant shows the 
joint which indicates its membership with the great Grass 
Family. 

Then for the last time the water is turned into the 
fields again (the harvest flow), and there it remains for 
about two months, until the grain is fully ripe. 

A few days before the harvesting the field is drawn dry 
and the ditches cleaned. 

The fields are harvested by hand with sickles, dried, 
tied into bundles which are piled upon platforms, and 
finally taken to the threshing mills. The barge that 
arrives at the mills first receives a prize. The careful 
master of olden times used to give them all a cup of grog, 
and require them to bathe and change their clothing. 

One of the greatest enemies of the rice field is the bird 
known to Northerners as the bobolink, in the Middle 
States as the reed-bird, and in the South as the rice-bird. 
They are extremely fat, and such very delicious eating 
that we can scarcely blame the rice planter for killing as 
many as he can, for they are also very destructive of this, 
his main crop. 



68 FOODS AND COOKING 



STORY OF THE POTATO 

It has been said that Christopher Columbus was the 
first European who ever tasted a potato. This was in 
1492, when he reached the West Indies. He brought 
samples home with him. It happens, however, that the 
white potato is not a native of these parts, and could not 
have been there when he landed. What he tasted and 
brought home with him was " batatas," or sweet potato, 
a very different article. But it gave its name, batatas, — 
potatoes, — to our tuber. 

The real potato is a native of Chili, and did not exist 
in North America before the arrival of the Europeans. 
How, then, could Sir Walter Raleigh bring it home with 
him from Virginia? Before Sir Walter went to Virginia, 
the Spaniards had brought the' real potato from South 
America. They had sent it home to Spain and planted 
it in North America. 

But did he bring it? There are some who say that it 
was Sir Francis Drake who brought the roots and pre- 
sented them to Sir Walter. He planted them on his 
estate near Cork ; but there are others who say that he 
knew so little of the virtues of the plant he was naturaliz- 
ing that he had apples, not potatoes, cooked and served 
upon his own table. 

During the whole of the seventeenth century the potato 
was found only in the gardens of the gentry in England. 
It was by many said to be poisonous. 

This early dislike of the potato may have been due to the 
fact that people did not know how to cook it, and possibly 
ate it raw ; for it is certainly not wholesome unless 
cooked, and it may be poisonous. 

Then again it belongs to a family of ill repute — that of 
the deadly nightshade. To this same family belong also the 
mandrake, tomato, jimson weed, cayenne pepper, and to- 



FOODS — THE CARBOHYDRATES 69 

bacco. Even the tempting appearance of the tomato did 
not win it favor when first introduced into Europe, and 
even now it is not eaten as freely there as we eat it. 

It is not only as a food plant that the potato has se- 
cured the respect of mankind. Starch is made from it 
both for the laundry and for the manufacture of farina, 
dextrine, etc. The dried pulp from which starch has been 
extracted is used for making boxes. Raw potato is a 
cooling application for burns. And in Norway a liquor 
is distilled from it called brandy. Carried around in 
the pocket it is said to be a charm against rheuma- 
tism and toothache. Mr. Andrew Lang mentions an 
instance of faith in this cure which he came across in a 
London drawing-room. He thinks that this belief is a 
survival of the old superstitions about the mandrake, and 
that it is similar to the habit of African tribes who wear 
roots around their necks as a protection against wild 

animals. 

— Adapted from "All the Year Round. " 



LEGEND OF THE CORN 

And he saw a youth approaching, 
Dressed in garments, green and yellow, 
Coming through the purple twilight, 
Through the splendor of the sunset, 
Plumes of green bent o'er his forehead, 
And his hair was soft and golden. 
Standing at the open doorway, 
Long he looked at Hiawatha, 
Looked with pity and compassion 
On his wasted form and features, 
And, in accents like the sighing 
Of the South Wind in the tree-tops, 
Said he, " O my Hiawatha! 



70 FOODS AND COOKING 

All your prayers are heard in heaven, 
For yon pray not like the others; 
Not for greater skill in hunting, 
Not for greater craft in fishing, 
Not for triumph in the battle, 
Nor renown among the warriors, 
But for profit of the people, 
For advantage of the nations. 

" From the Master of Life descending, 
I, the friend of man, Mondamin, 
Come to warn you and instruct you, 
How by struggle and by labor 
You shall gain what you have prayed for, 
Rise up from your bed of branches, 
Rise, O youth, and wrestle with me ! " 

Faint with famine, Hiawatha, 
Started from his bed of branches, 
From the twilight of his wigwam 
Forth into the flush of sunset 
Came, and wrestled with Mondamin. 
At his touch he felt new courage 
Throbbing in his brain and bosom, 
Felt new life and hope and vigor 
Run through every nerve and fibre. 

" 'Tis enough ! " then said Mondamin, 
Smiling upon Hiawatha, 
" But to-morrow, when the sun sets, 
I will come again to try you." 

On the morrow and the next day, 
When the sun through heaven descending 
Like a red and burning cinder 
From the hearth of the Great Spirit, 
Fell into the western waters, 
Came Mondamin for the trial, 
For the strife with Hiawatha ; 



FOODS — THE CARBOHYDRATES 71 

Came as silent as the dew comes, 
From the empty air appearing, 
Into empty air returning, 
Taking shape when earth it touches, 
But invisible to all men 
In its coming and its going. 

Thrice they wrestled there together 
In the glory of the sunset, 
Till the darkness fell around them, 
Till the heron, the shuh-shuh-gah, 
From her nest among the pine trees, 
Uttered her loud cry of famine, 
And Mondamin paused to listen. 

Tall and beautiful he stood there, 
In his garments, green and yellow ; 
To and fro, his plumes above him, 
Waved and nodded, with his breathing, 
And the sweat of the encounter 
Stood like drops of dew upon him. 

And he cried, " O Hiawatha ! 
Bravely have you wrestled with me, 
Thrice have wrestled stoutly with me. 
And the Master of Life, who sees us, 
He will give to you the triumph ! " 

Then he smiled, and said, " To-morrow 
Is the last day of your conflict, 
Is the last day of your fasting. 
You will conquer and o'ercome me ; 
Make a bed for me to lie in, 
Where the rain will fall upon me, 
Where the sun may come and warni me ; 
Strip these garments, green and yellow, 
Strip this nodding plumage from me, 
Lay me in the earth, and make it 
Soft and loose and light above me/' 



72 FOODS AND COOKING 

On the morrow came Nokomis, 
On the seventh clay of his fasting, 
Came with food for Hiawatha, 
Came imploring and bewailing, 
Lest his hunger should o'er come him, 
Lest his fasting should be fatal. 

But he tasted not, and touched not, 
Only said to her, " Nokomis, 
Wait until the sun is setting, 
Till the darkness falls around us, 
Till the heron, the shuh-shuh-gah, 
Crying from the desolate marshes, 
Tells us that the day is ended." 
He meanwhile sat weary waiting 
For the coming of Mondamin, 
Till the shadows, pointing eastward, 
Lengthened over field and forest, 
Till the sun dropped from the heaven, 
Floating on the waters westward, 
As a red leaf in the autumn 
Falls and floats upon the water, 
Falls and sinks upon its bosom. 

And behold ! the young Mondamin, 
With his soft and shining tresses, 
With his garments, green and yellow, 
With his long and glossy plumage, 
Stood and beckoned at the doorway. 
And as one in slumber walking, 
Pale and haggard, but undaunted, 
From the wigwam Hiawatha 
Came and wrestled with Mondamin. 
Suddenly upon the greensward 
All alone stood Hiawatha, 
Panting with his wild exertion, 
Palpitating with the struggle ; 



FOODS THE CARBOHYDRATES 

And before him, breathless, lifeless, 
Lay the youth, with hair dishevelled, 
Plumage torn, and garments tattered, 
Dead he lay there in the sunset. 

And victorious Hiawatha 
Made the grave as he commanded, 
Stripped the garments from Mondamin, 
Stripped his tattered plumage from him, 
Laid him in the earth and made it 
Soft and loose and light above him ; 
And the heron, the shuh-shuh-gah, 
From the melancholy moorlands, 
Gave a cry of lamentation, 
Gave a cry of pain and anguish ! 

Homeward, then, went Hiawatha 
To the lodge of old Nokomis, 
And the seven days- of his fasting 
Were accomplished and completed. 
But the place was not forgotten, 
Where he wrestled with Mondamin ; 
Nor forgotten, nor neglected, 
Was the grave where lay Mondamin, 
Sleeping in the rain and sunshine, 
Where his scattered plumes and garments 
Faded in the rain and sunshine. 

Day by day did Hiawatha 
Go to wait and watch beside it ; 
Kept the dark mould soft above it, 
Kept it clean from weeds and insects, 
Drove away with scoffs and shoutings, 
Kahgahgee, the king of ravens. 

Till at length a small green feather 
From the earth shot slowly upward, 
Then another and another, 
And before the summer ended 



74 FOODS AND COOKING 

Stood the maize in all its beauty, 
With its shining robes about it, 
And its long soft yellow tresses ; 
And in rapture, Hiawatha 
Cried aloud, " It is Mondamin ! 
Yes, the friend of man, Mondamin ! " 

Then he called to old Nokomis 
And Iagoo, the great boaster, 
Showed them where the maize was growing, 
Told them of his wondrous vision, 
Of his wrestling and his triumph, 
Of this new gift to the nations, 
Which should be their food forever. 

And still later, when the Autumn 
Changed the long green leaves to yellow, 
And the soft and juicy kernels 
Grew, like wampum, hard and yellow, 
Then the ripened ears he gathered, 
Stripped the withered husks from off them, 
As he once had stripped the wrestler, 
Gave the first Feast of Mondamin, 
And made known unto the people 
This new gift of the Great Spirit. 

— From " Hiawatha," hy Henry W. Longfellow. 

SUGAR 

Many plants contain sugar, but commercially, its chief 
source is the sugar and the beet root. Under the fostering 
intelligent care of our Agricultural Department, sorghum, 
a relative of the sugar-cane, is likely to be an important 
sugar producer in the future. In Asia the date palm, and 
in our own country the maple, add to the supply, and south- 
ern California has succeeded in making it from the water- 
melon. Grape sugar, or glucose, may be made from an 



FOODS — THE CARBOHYDRATES 75 

old handkerchief, and is made in great quantities from 
starch. Milk sugar, chiefly used in medicines (homoe- 
opathic pills among other things), is made, as its name indi- 
cates, from milk. 

The sugar-cane is one of the most beautiful members of 
the great grass family, resembling somewhat in appearance 
its near relatives, the Indian corn, the sorghum, and the 
broom corn. These are all like each other in the fact that 
their stems are not hollow, but pithy, and in this pith is 
stored an abundant sweet juice. 

Sugar-cane needs plenty of moisture and a warm climate. 
The soil is a matter of less importance, for sugar-cane, like 
corn, seems to make small demands on the soil, and often 
grows for a dozen years without exhausting the soil. 

In Louisiana, the cane begins to grow in February, and is 
ready for harvesting between October and January. It is 
cut down with a hatchet. The top is chopped off, the leaves 
stripped from the stalk, and the bare canes carried on nar- 
row donkey rails to the plantation mill. 

Here the cane is crushed, and its juice extracted. This 
is then purified and cooked into molasses and sugar, which 
are shipped to one of the large Eastern refineries for better 
manufacture. 

The cane, from which the juice has been extracted, is used 
either for fuel, in the plantation mill, or else as a dressing 
for the cane fields. 



A VISIT TO A SUGAR REFINERY 

The great refineries are usually located along a water 
front, so that they may receive the crude sugar from the 
South with the greatest ease and the least expense. Now 
that the duty on sugar has been restored, the first handling 
of the West India sugar is by the employees of the United 
States government, who weigh and sample it as it is 



76 FOODS AND COOKING 

swung from the ships. It is at once weighed again by a 
city weigher, whose salary is paid by the refineries. 

When at last the sugar reaches the factory, it is at once 
emptied into the mixer, great pans containing the almost 
boiling water in which the bags have been washed. After 
an hour's heating the scum of impurities at the top is 
skimmed off. Other impurities, " settled " if need be by 
adding lime water, are left on the bottom, while the clear 
liquid in between is raised to the top of these enormously 
high buildings. Here are the purifying tanks, in which on 
the addition of bullock's blood, or some other form of liquid 
protein, the sugar is further cleansed from impurities. 
The principle is the same as that by which we add the 
white of an egg to coffee. The albumen of the egg 
diffuses itself slowly and coagulating somewhat with the 
heat forms a mesh in which the solid particles are caught 
and carried to the bottom. 

The sugar is then filtered through bags of coarse cotton 
cloth. It is now a clear brown liquid. It has been freed 
from all insoluble impurities, but as its color shows it still 
contains some that are soluble. To get rid of these it is 
passed down through bone black (animal charcoal), and is 
now a perfectly colorless liquid. To turn this into sugar 
it is only necessary to cook it. This requires skill, judg- 
ment, and good apparatus, but all these are at the sugar 
refiner's command. 

When cooked sufficiently, it falls again. This time 
either into the centrifugal machine, which makes out of it 
granulated sugar, or else into cone-shaped moulds, from 
which come the beautiful, brilliant, white cones of sugar 
which were familiar to your mothers, wrapped in blue 
paper and ornamenting a grocer's shelf. 

From these cones, lump sugar is sawn, under cover, to 
prevent the loss of sugar dust. From the dust, by further 
grinding, pulverized sugar is made. 



FOOD — BREAD 77 

FOOD — BREAD 

A LOAF OP BREAD 

If an ordinary grain of wheat be sliced through the 
middle, you will find it to consist of several layers : the 
outer, a fruit coat, chiefly woody fibre and useless for food. 
Then comes the hard seed coat of matter very rich in 
gluten, the part of the wheat that really nourishes us. 
In the centre there is a white powdery mass which is pure 
starch. In making flour by the new process, the outer 
layer, which forms what we call bran, is usually removed, 
leaving the gluten and the white starchy flour of the centre. 
Formerly little but the starch was used for flour. Then 
followed graham flour, in which every part was saved. 
The present method is to use all the seed, but not the 
woody fruit coats. To be fit for digestion starch must 
be softened by boiling or baking ; so we bake our bread 
because cooked starch is more easily acted on by the 
digestive juice than raw starch. 

Let us see what changes take place in making the flour 
into a loaf of baked bread. The necessary quantity of 
flour is put into a pan with half its weight of water, some 
salt and yeast, and mixed up into what is known as the 
"sponge." This is mixed up and left for some time in a 
warm place, after which it is kneaded with the rest of the 
flour and again left to rest. The dough is then divided 
into small parts and put in tins, and set aside until they 
have risen to twice their previous size. 

It is the yeast that causes the raising of bread. The 
flour contains a small quantity of a ferment which 
changes some of the starch into sugar; the yeast then 
attacks the sugar, changing it into alcohol and carbon 
dioxide. The little bubbles of this latter try to escape from 
the mass of the dough, but get tangled up in the gluten 



<5 FOODS AND COOKING 

and gum which the flour contains ; and thus every part 
of the dough becomes full of little cavities. If this went 
on without a stop being put to it, the bubbles of gas would 
find their way out in the end. The dough would " fall," 
and the bread would be heavy. But the baker guards 
against this by putting it, at the proper time, into a hot 
oven, the heat of which first increases the fermentation. 
In a few minutes, however, the heat becomes great enough 
to kill the yeast, — the fermentation, therefore, stops ; the 
starch granules are burst by the heat, and the mass keeps 
the porous form. During the baking, the starch of the 
outer parts of the bread has been browned by the heat and 
changed into a sugar known as dextrin. Maybe this is the 
reason why some people are so fond of the crust. 

The heat of the oven has changed the outside of the 
bread into sugar, and the starch in the inside has in fact 
been boiled in the steam of the water which the dough 
contained, so that it has become ready to be converted 
into sugar by the action of the saliva and intestinal juices. 
The porous nature of the bread helps in this change, for 
the juices easily penetrate through the whole mass. 

It must be remembered that the starch of bread does not 
give us nourishment. It produces heat ; and, just like the 
coal of the engine, the starch or sugar is burned up inside 
us to keep up the temperature of the body. It is the gluten, 
the sticky material of the grain, which is the flesh-forming 
material. 

CRACKERS 

Crackers are probably of very ancient date. Some 
are inclined to think they find an allusion to them in the 
first book of Kings, where Jeroboam sends his wife to 
consult the prophet Ahijah about his son who has fallen 
sick, bidding her take with her " ten loaves, and cracknels, 
and a cruse of honey." All the countries of Europe have 



F0( >D 



BREAD 79 



been cracker making from time immemorial, and most of 
them have a name for the things, indicating that they 
originally underwent a double process of cooking. The 
English call them bis-cnit, meaning " twice cooked." Even 
the old Romans had their " twice-baked bread," and there is 
at least one kind of cracker still made by a double cook- 
ing. The cracknel is first plunged into boiling water 
and then baked; though whether the "cracknels" of the 
modern factory at all resemble the " cracknels " of King 
Jeroboam's time, one cannot say. 

The original form of the thing was simplicity itself. 
It was just a mixture of flour and water spread out thin 
and baked till all the moisture was driven out of it. It 
was their extreme dryness that permitted of their being 
stored for eighteen months, or two years, if necessary, 
without spoiling, and it was in order to get them as dry 
as possible that they were made thin, and cooked twice, 
and thrice, and sometimes four times over. Not only was 
the moisture of the dough thus driven out of them, but 
the water originally embodied in the flour Avas evaporated 
also, so that ten pounds of flour would make only about 
nine pounds of crackers. They were, no doubt, in the 
first instance, merely a form of unfermented bread, espe- 
cially adapted for storage, and particularly on board ship 
during long voyages. Hence the Roman "sea-cracker." 

That was pretty certainly the original form of the thing 
— just a thin, well-baked cake of flour and water, as dry as 
a chip, and so hard that a hatchet was often required to 
chop it up. But the arts of modern confectionery have 
developed this rather unappetizing germ into a marvellous 
variety of knickknacks; and, by catering to every variety 
of taste all over the world, a really great industry has 
been developed, quite apart from the enormous trade in 
ship crackers. 

The baking of crackers has been reduced to an art of 



80 FOODS AND COOKING 

the greatest precision and nicety. No one ever sees an 
underdone or an overdone cracker, at least, not from any 
factory of repute; and if you open a box of them you 
will find that all the crackers of the same kind are of pre- 
cisely the same shade of color. From the mode of manu- 
facture, up to the mouth of the oven, it will be seen that 
in each batch the little cakes are bound to be all alike in 
composition, in shape, and in thickness; and if they are 
all exposed to exactly the same heat, for exactly the same 
length of time, they are found to come out exactly the 
same complexion. This equal baking is secured in an 
extremely simple way. The ovens are not of the ordinary 
baker's type. They are really hot chambers, through 
which battalions of crackers, spread out in orderly array 
on tins, continue all day long to pass in at one end and 
out at the other, endless chains, especially constructed, 
bearing them along at a speed carefully regulated accord- 
ing to the time any particular kind of cracker will take 
to properly bake. The lighter kinds may run through 
the fiery chamber in about four minutes. The heavier 
sorts, of course, receive longer baking, and they travel 
more slowly. An ingenious piece of mechanism permits 
of the speed being regulated with the greatest possible 
nicety to the requirements of each kind. Nothing re- 
mains but to convey these entirely machine-made crackers 
to the vast floors where they are sorted and packed. The 
whole factory from end to end, so far as the great bulk of 
the business is concerned, has scarcely anything in common 
with the cracker bakeries of fifty or sixty years ago. 

— Adapted from " Modern Biscuit Making," Chambers' 1 s Journal. 

HOT CROSS-BUNS 

A superstition regarding bread baked on Good Friday 
appears to have existed from an early period. Bread so 



FOOD — BREAD 81 

baked was kept by a family all through the ensuing year, 
under a belief that a few gratings of it in water would 
prove a specific for any ailment. We see a memorial of 
this ancient superstition in the use of what are called hot 
cross-buns, which may now be said to be the most promi- 
nent popular observance connected with the day. 

In London, and all over England (not, however, in 
Scotland), the morning of Good Friday is ushered in 
with a universal cry of " Hot Cross-Buns ! " A parcel of 
them appears on every breakfast table. It is a rather 
small bun, more than usually spiced, and having its brown 
sugary surface marked with a cross. Thousands of poor 
children and old frail people take up for this day the 
business of disseminating these quasi-religious cakes, only 
intermitting the duty during church hours; and if the 
eagerness with which young and old eat them could be 
held as expressive of an appropriate sentiment within 
their hearts, the English might be deemed a pious people. 
The ear of every person who has ever dwelt in England is 
familiar with the cry of the street bun- venders : — 

"One a penny, buns, 
Two a penny, buns, 
One a penny, two a penny, 
Hot cross-buns ! " 

Whether it be from failing appetite, the chilling effects 
of age, or any other fault in ourselves, we cannot say, but 
it strikes us that neither in the bakers' shops nor from the 
baskets of the street venders can one now get hot cross- 
buns comparable to those of past times. They want the 
spice, the crispness, the everything, they once had. Older 
people than we speak also with mournful affection of the 
two noted bun houses of Chelsea. Nay, they were royal 
bun houses, if their signs could be believed, the popular 
legend always insinuating that the king himself had 



82 FOODS AND COOKING 

stopped there, bought, and eaten the buns. Early in the 
present century, families of the middle classes walked a 
considerable way to taste the delicacies of the Chelsea 
bun houses, on the seats beneath the shed which screened 
the pavement in front. An insane rivalry, of course, 
existed between the two houses, one pretending to be The 
Chelsea bun house, and the other the Ileal Old Original 
Chelsea bun house. 

— Adapted from Chambers's "Book of Days." 

MEXICAN BREAD — THE TORTILLA 

The equipment of Mexican kitchens is very simple. 
There is simply a wall of adobe (sun-dried brick) about 
two feet high and two feet wide. It usually extends the 
whole length of the room. There are numbers of depres- 
sions in the bank, and in these burn the fires of charcoal 
or wood, in which are placed the pot and pans for cooking. 
Sometimes the bank of adobe is only a high cone, shaped 
like a mound, and with only one depression. 

In some parts of Mexico the cooking is done out of doors. 
Then when it rains there is no dinner. This matters less 
than it would with us, for the bulk of their food is fruit. 

Everywhere in Mexico the corn-cakes are eaten. The 
corn meal from which they are made is first softened 
by soaking it in lime Avater. When the hull can be 
separated from the grain, it is pounded and rolled upon 
a flat stone. For this a cylinder of stone, something like 
a rolling-pin, or a flat stone, or one slightly rounded, is 
used. With this rude tool the woman pounds and twists 
for hours. When the corn has thus been turned into 
sufficiently fine meal, water is added to it, and it is worked 
into dough. This is then rolled and patted with the hands 
until it is almost as thin as the blade of a knife. 

In the meantime the iron griddle has to be made hot by 



DRINKS 83 

putting it over a fire. On it is placed the circular cake, 
which cooks in a very few minutes. These are white in 
color, usually without salt, and therefore rather tasteless. 
Still, they have the sweet of the grain, and are very much 
liked by all who eat them for any length of time. 

BREAD OF THE ZUNI INDIANS 

The Indians of New Mexico make their bread from corn 
meal. When the corn is shelled, grains of the same color 
are put together. Strange as it may seem, there are thus 
separated various tints of pink, blue, green, and yellow. 
Meals of different colors are made from these. Each is 
mixed separately with water until it forms a fine paste. 
This is then smeared over a hot stone slab with a quick mo- 
tion of the hand. The dough is so thin and the stone so hot 
that it takes but a moment to bake. Its surface is as highly 
polished as writing paper. In flavor, it has a delicate fresh 
bread flavor, and is said to be very delicious, particularly 
when eaten with salt. 

FOODS — SALADS 

Four persons are needed to make a good salad : — 

A counsellor for salt, 

A miser for vinegar, 

A spendthrift for oil, and 

A madman to stir it up ! 

— SpcuiisJi Proverb. 

DRINKS 

TEA CULTURE 

Next to silk, however, the product which we most 
nearly associate with China is tea, which proclaims its 



84 FOODS AND COOKING 

nationality by the two names tea and clia, by which it is 
known all over the world. Te is the Amoy pronunciation 
of the word which is called clia in the central, western, 
and northern provinces of the empire. The Russians, 
therefore, who have always drawn their supplies through 
Siberia, call the leaf <?/i'«, while the French and the Eng- 
lish know it by its southern name. There is reason to 
believe that the plant has been known and valued in 
China for some thousands of years, and in one of the 
Confucian classics mention is made of the habit of smok- 
ing a leaf, which is popularly believed to be that of the 
tea plant. But, however this may be, it is certain that, 
for many centuries, the plant has been cultivated over a 
large part of central and southern China. 

Great care is taken in selecting the seed, and when, 
after careful tending, the seedlings have reached a height 
of four or five inches, they are planted out in the planta- 
tions in rows, two or three feet apart. For two years the 
plant is allowed to grow untouched, and it is only at the 
end of the third year that it is called upon to yield its 
first crop of leaves. After this the plant is subjected to 
three harvests; namely, in the third, fifth, and eighth 
months. The leaves when plucked are first dried in the 
sun, and the remaining moisture is then extracted from 
them by the action of nude-footed men and women, who 
trample on them, as Spanish peasants do on the juice of 
the vine. They are then allowed to heat for some hours, 
and, after having been rolled in the hand, are spread out 
in the sun, or, if the weather be cloudy, are slowly baked 
over charcoal fires. Among the wealthier natives the 
infusion is not generally made, as with us, in teapots ; 
but each drinker puts a pinch of tea into his cup, and, 
having added boiling water, drinks the mixture as soon 
as the full flavor of the tea has been extracted, and before 
the tannin has been boiled out of the leaves. By high 



DRINKS 85 

and low, rich and poor, the beverage is drunk. Not only 
is it drunk in every household in the empire, but tea- 
houses abound in the cities, in the market-places, and by 
the highways. Like the London coffee shops, in the 
time of the Stuarts, the tea-houses in the cities form the 
places of meeting between merchants for the transaction 
of business, and between friends, who congregate to dis- 
cuss local affairs. 

Although, as has been said, tea was known and used 
at a very early period in China, it failed to make its 
appearance in Europe until the end of the sixteenth cen- 
tury. Pepys, in his diary, speaks of a cup of tea much in 
the same way that we talk of a glass of rare wine, and 
mentions the fact of his wife's taking it as a sort of medi- 
cal prescription. The importation of 4713 pounds of the 
leaf in 1678 was regarded as an event of unparalleled com- 
mercial enterprise ; but, as time advanced, the habit of tea 
drinking spread rapidly. 

The form in which tea is exported for general European 
use is not that which is suited for land transport. In 
carrying goods by road, cubic space is a matter of vital 
importance. For centuries the Chinese have supplied 
the Tibetans with tea in so compressed a form as to be 
readily portable by carts, or beasts of burden, or on men's 
shoulders. In these ways it has long been customary to 
carry bricks of tea across the mountain ranges which mark 
the western frontier of China ; and when a demand for 
tea sprang up in Russia, like circumstances suggested a 
like method. The principal place for preparing the brick 
tea is Hankow, where six or more factories are constantly 
engaged in the manufacture of it. Something has to be 
sacrificed to expediency, and it is incontestable that the 
Russians and other consumers of brick tea lose in flavor 
what they gain by the smaller compass. The dust of tea, 
and therefore a poor kind of tea, is best suited for form- 



86 FOODS AND COOKING 

ing bricks, and even the inferiority thus entailed is in- 
creased by the process employed to weld the masses 
together. This is done by a method of steaming, which 
encourages an . evaporation of both flavor and freshness, 
and when it has effected its purpose by moistening the 
dust, the mixture is put into wooden moulds and pressed 
into the shape of bricks. It is left to stand in the moulds 
for a week, and the bricks are then wrapped up separately 
in paper and packed in bamboo baskets, sixty-four filling 
a basket. 

The growers of silk and of tea are to the ordinary agri- 
culturists of China what large hop growers among our- 
selves are to the holders of twenty-acre farms. As a rule, 
they are rich and well-to-do men, whereas the ordinary 
agriculturist is raised little above the rank of a peasant, 
and has little to congratulate himself upon beyond the 
fact that his calling is held up to general approbation, and 
that it inherits a record which is as old as that of the race 
itself. 

— Adapted from "Society in China," by Robert K. Douglas. 

THE TEA CEREMONY IN JAPAN 

Two modes of conducting the ceremonies are observed, 
— the winter and the summer modes. In the former, 
the garden is strewn with fir leaves, the guests retain their 
shoes, and the furnace for the kettle is a pit in the floor 
filled with ashes. In the latter, the garden is decked with 
flowers, the guests take off their shoes, and a portable 
earthenware furnace is used. 

The inside of the room is as plain as possible. 

The guests assemble in a pavilion in the garden, an- 
nouncing their arrival by striking on a wooden tablet, or 
bell. Then the host himself, or a servant, comes to con- 
duct each to the chamber. 



DRINKS 87 

As the entrance is only three feet square, the host kneels 
and lets the guests creep in before him. They being 
seated in a semicircle, the host goes to the door of the 
side room in which the utensils are kept, saying : " I am 
very glad that you have come. Thank you very much. 
I now go to make up the fire." 

He then brings in a basket containing charcoal of the 
required length, a brush made of three feathers, a pair of 
tongs, the stand of the kettle, iron handles for the kettle, 
a lacquer box containing incense, and some paper. He 
again leaves the chamber, to bring in a vessel with ashes 
and its spoon. 

He makes up the fire and burns incense in order to 
overpower the smell of the charcoal. While he is thus 
occupied, his guests beg to be allowed to inspect the 
incense box, generally an object of value. 

This closes the first part of the ceremony, and both 
host and guest withdraw. 

The second part commences with eating. It is a rule 
that nothing shall be left. So the guests carry off, 
wrapped up in paper, any fragments that remain. The 
utensils used in this part of the ceremony are as follows : 

1st. An iron kettle, with a copper or iron lid, resting 
on a stand. 

2d. A table or stand of mulberry wood, two feet high. 

3d. Two tea jars, containing finely powdered tea and 
enclosed in bags of brocade. 

4th. A vessel containing fresh water, which is placed 
under the table. 

5th. A tea bowl of porcelain or earthenware, simple in 
form, but remarkable for its antiquity or historical asso- 
ciations. 

Beside these there is a bamboo whisk, a silk cloth, 
usually purple, for wiping the utensils, a spoon to take 
the tea out of the tea jars, and a water ladle. All these 



88 FOODS AND COOKING 

objects are brought in singly by the host in their prescribed 
order. 

After solemn salutations and obeisances, the utensils are 
wiped and some of the powdered tea is placed in the tea 
bowl. Hot water is poured on it. The whole is then vigor- 
ously stirred with the whisk until it looks like thin spinach. 
A boy carries the bowl to the chief guest, who returns it 
empty to the boy. The empty bowl is then passed around 
once more that the guests may admire it. The utensils 
are then washed by the host, and the ceremony is at an 

end. 

— From the Catalogue of the Ceramic Collection of South Kensing- 
ton Museum, Dr. Frank. 

COFFEE 

They have in Turkey a drink called Coffee, made of a 

Berry of the same Name, as black as Soot, of a Strong Scent 

but not Aromatical, which they take beaten into a Powder 

in Water, as Hot as they can Drink it, and they take it, and 

sit at it in their Coffee Houses, which are like our Taverns. 

The Drink comforteth the Brain, and Heart, and helpeth 

Digestion. 

— Lord Bacon in " Sylva Syl varum." 

CHOCOLATE 

The chocolate plant is a small tree, a native of the 
warmer belt in the Americas, and cultivated successfully in 
Africa and Asia. 

Its flowers are produced on the older branches instead of 
on the younger twigs. They therefore are always quite 
near the trunk, and may therefore be visited with ease by 
the insects that fly below. 

The fruits when ripe are the size of large cucumbers, and, 
although more pointed at the lower end, have very much 



CONDIMENTS 89 

the same shape. It is the seeds within that are used in 
the manufacture of cocoa and chocolate. 

It is rather difficult to get the seeds free from the pulp. 
In many places they are covered with a little earth and 
allowed to decay. The seeds are then dried and sent to the 
factory. 

Here they are roasted, ground, and often sweetened and 
flavored. The product is called chocolate. 

For the digestion of many people, chocolate contains too 
great a quantity of oil. This is expressed from the ground 
seeds, and forms the cocoa butter of commerce. The 
material freed from most of its oil is called cocoa. 



CONDIMENTS 

A SALT MANUFACTORY 

" Here we are in the very midst of the salt district. 
The roads are levelled with pan scale, the atmosphere 
tastes brackish ; the people earn their daily bread by salt 
making, and anything and everything, either immediately 
or indirectly, is connected with the salt industry," said 
the manager of the salt works, of Stoke Prior. And now 
came full into view the works of Stoke Prior, planned by 
the millionnaire " Salt King." Before us lay stretched the 
goodly iron-crowned towers of the numerous huge chim- 
neys of the different factories constituting the works. The 
evaporating houses, the drying houses, the melting houses, 
the wagon -making shops, the carpenters' shops, the fitting 
shops, and the box-making shops, all invited our attention 
and seemed to promise a reward to diligent observation. 

" Before entering any of these workshops," said the 
manager, " we will visit the pumps, and then climb the 
grassy bank to the reservoir." 



90 FOODS AND COOKING 

" And so learn something of the depths and the heights 
of it ? " we queried. 

" Exactly," and we proceeded pumpwards. These em- 
brace a system of tubes below ground, and elevated, iron, 
boat-shaped see-saws above ground. Peering down below 
the trap-door which protects the excavation near the sur- 
face, we saw a deep boring, running down to a depth of 
fully four hundred feet below the surface, and apparently 
terminating in a twinkling star. This beautiful, glistening, 
twinkling diamond we soon make out to be neither more 
nor less than brine — that is, water impregnated with salt. 

"The brine lies four hundred feet below the surface," 
Ave Avere informed, " and it is pumped up by the machinery 
you are iioav looking at into an immense tank or reservoir 
for storage purposes. From the reservoir it rushes, by 
the force of gravitation, into an elaborate system of pipes, 
and so into salt pans, which you Avill presently see." 

" If anything goes Avrong with the pumping machinery, 
sunk to such a depth, is it not difficult to 'right the Avrong' 
so far below the surface ? " 

" It is exceedingly difficult, and a work of Avorry and 
expense." 

At a given signal, the trap-doors Avere closed, and, turn- 
ing our backs on the pumps, we crossed the grounds, 
Avhereon are situated the various factories and Avorkshops, 
and walking the length of a pleasant field reached a small 
wicket gate. Unlocking this, our guide, we folloAving, 
mounted a flight of some thirty-five steps leading up a 
grass-covered embankment. Alongside the steps runs a 
large pipe, from the nozzle of Avhich pours a perpetual 
stream of brine, clear as crystal, into an enormous reser- 
voir, supplying the huge salt pans in the salt houses be- 
yond and below. Into the floor of the reservoir open 
innumerable pipes, through which the fluid finds outlet. 
The Avails and floor of this great Avater tank are perfectly 



CONDIMENTS 91 

clean, and fair to look upon. The waters of the briny 
lake are perpetually moving, the movement being due to 
the continuous inflow and outflow of the contents. A 
little boat would not have an altogether smooth time on 
this billowy sea. 

From the green grass, the fresh air, and the crystal 
brine to the fiery furnaces, glowing with unquenchable 
fires, offers a sharp contrast. The furnace doors are 
swung open for our inspection ; the hot air and the incan- 
descence affect us powerfully. 

" These fires never go out day or night," we are told ; 
"there are men always working here." 

It does not do to spend longer than need be looking 
into consuming fires ; and we pass on to the evaporating 
houses. Here we observe steel tanks, technically termed 
" pans," of fifty feet long and twenty-eight feet wide, from 
which a continuous steam is rising. Approaching one 
of these, we stoop now and watch what is going on. 
Down at the bottom a continual movement is kept 
up. It is a movement of small crystals toward each other. 
It suggests to a casual observer a snowstorm under water. 
Close by is another tank which a man is emptying. The 
workman is stripped to the waist, for it is warm work he 
is doing. Raking up the apparent snowflakes, but really 
the deposit of " broad " salt, he removes it by means of a 
perforated circular ladle, almost flat in form, tossing it 
into a suitable receptacle, in this case a cart. Not far off 
is a third tank, but it is empty. On its bottom stands a 
man in two tubs, a leg in each. He is wielding a pick- 
axe, and his object is to clear away that bane of the 
salt makers, "pan scale," or, as it is sometimes termed, 
"pan scratch." This objectionable earthy deposit consists 
largely of lime, which combines with the salt and forms a 
hard calcareous substance, in appearance not unlike an 
inferior enamel. 



92 FOODS AND COOKING 

Crossing an intervening yard, we ascend a flight of 
stairs, and enter another "evaporating" house. In this, 
salt is being produced for chemical and industrial purposes. 
Here we note that the salt forms on the surface of the water 
instead of at the bottom of the pan. It is curious to see 
the scum form at the top of the water, raise itself slightly, 
and then suddenly precipitate itself into the fluid, gradu- 
ally sinking to the bottom. It evidently finds the sinking 
a matter of difficulty, too, to judge by the time it takes to 
become thoroughly submerged. This is accounted for by 
the buoyancy of the brine, as it is of great density. " An 
egg^ or any other small article, would float on its surface," 
says our companion. The crystals in this tank are several 
degrees smaller than those formed in the broad salt tank. 
We remark upon this, and are informed "the degree of 
heat and the length of time of the evaporation determine 
the fineness of the salt produced. The quicker the evapo- 
ration, the finer the grain, while certain varieties take a 
long time to produce. Ordinary butter salt and ordinary 
domestic salt are produced in about a day, while common 
or broad salt is drawn about every two days." 

It may interest some to learn that a thousand gallons of 
brine produce about a ton and a quarter of salt. Undoubt- 
edly, the chief cost in the production of salt is that of 
fuel. 

" How long do the moulds last ? " we asked an old work- 
man employed in making one. " They be very much like 
human nature, they be ; if they're used well, they lasts the 
longer," was his characteristic reply. 

Ladling out the salt, the workman presses it down, all 
moist as it is, into the mould, and when a sufficient number 
of frames have been filled, and the superfluous moisture 
has drained off through the perforations in the bottom of 
the mould, they are placed on trolleys, and run into drying 
houses. Here the moulds are inverted, releasing their pil- 



CONDIMENTS 93 

lars of salt, which are even at the edges, with a " tapper " — 
a small wooden instrument suggestive of a butter patter. 

A curious effect is produced upon a visitor entering one 
of these drying houses for, perhaps, the first time in his 
life — white ceilings, walls, and floors serve to reflect and 
refract the glistening whiteness of the pyramidal pillars of 
salt. The temperature is a high one, over 100° F., and 
to this the salt is exposed until perfectly dry. It is an 
easy matter to decide, when the salt is really as dry as it 
should be, inasmuch as when the pillars are touched they 
emit a metallic sound altogether wanting in moist or 
insufficiently dried salt. 

From the drying house to a mill, by means of an eleva- 
tor, the dried salt is transported. Once in the mill, its 
pillar form succumbs to the action of a double set of steel 
teeth, which reduce it to powder. The mills discharge it 
into bags that are held in a circular iron band, actuated 
by machinery in such a way that they are raised slowly, 
but dropped on the floor every second or so, with not a 
little force, so as to shake down the salt in the bags. The 
table salt passes through a very fine sieve, any coarse 
particles being extracted and shot out at the side of the 
machine. 

The salt, when it is in the pillar form, is fit for the table ; 
but people nowadays like to have it ground up for them. 
It is thus ready to hand, and saves time and trouble ; 
hence the stoneware and ribbed-glass jars, and the pack- 
ages of " table salt." 

— Adapted from ' ' Gentleman' s Magazine. ' ' 



A SALT MINE 

There is a famous salt mine near Warsaw, which has 
been worked for nearly six hundred and fifty years. Once 
it was the main source of revenue for the kingdom, and 



94 FOODS AND COOKING 

even now so many people live in it that it has laws and 
rulers of its own. To each of the miners is given a small 
room in which he lives and brings up his family. Not 
less than eighty horses are kept in its stables. 

The corridors are supported on all sides by pillars of 
salt. When the light falls down the long passages, the 
whole mine looks like a crystal palace with walls and 
pillars of palest green. 

SALT SUPERSTITIONS 

Salt seems to have been considered sacred from the 
earliest times. The Romans kept their saltholders with 
great care. It was put on the table along with the images 
of the household gods. To spill salt at the table was 
considered an evil omen, a belief that has survived to the 
present day. 

Da Vinci pictures it in his famous " Last Supper." You 
remember Judas overturns it as he reaches over the table 
to dip his hand in the dish with that of Christ. 

It was indeed bad luck to spill salt in those old days 
when, according to the Roman historian Tacitus, the Ger- 
mans waged war to obtain salt springs, and the possession 
of one was considered to be by the gift of the gods. 

The Bible speaks repeatedly of the covenant of salt, 
and the Mexicans worshipped a goddess of salt. 

To eat salt with a man was to bind yourself to be his 
friend. Do you not remember in the story of the Forty 
Thieves in the " Arabian Nights " that Cogia refuses to 
go to the table with his intended victim? He fears lest 
he should eat salt with him, in which case he would have 
to give up his plans against him. 

There is another strange tale of a robber, who, in pur- 
suing his work in a strange house, on a dark night, stum- 
bles upon a small object. He puts it to his lips. When 



CONDIMENTS 95 

he discovers that it is salt, he gives up his plan of robbing 
the house, for has he not tasted its owner's salt ? 

The Chinese put it in the final bonfire of the year. Its 
crackling foretells the good fortune to come. 

And even in our own country there are still people who 
put salt in their shoes to keep off the witches. 

PEPPER 

Black pepper, white pepper, and pepper corns all come 
from the same plant. 

This is a climbing shrub, requiring rich, moist soil. 
Where it grows wild the natives tie the ends of the vines 
to rough-barked trees at least six feet from the roots. 
Then they clear away the underbrush, leaving, however, 
trees enough for shade. The vines are trained twice a 
year, and the roots fertilized with dead leaves. 

It is harvested twice a year, just as the fruits are begin- 
ning to turn red and before they are ripe. They are dried 
in the sun for a few days, and then sent to market in bags 
holding either sixty-four pounds or else double. This is 
the black pepper of commerce. 

White pepper is prepared either from black pepper, by 
removing the fruit coat, or, more commonly, from the ripe 
fruits. After keeping the latter in the house three days, 
they are bruised and washed in a basket by hand until 
the pulp and stalks are removed. The berries are then 
dried for market. 

Pepper was one of the earliest sjoices known to man. It 
was one of the chief articles of export from India, and 
therefore contributed materially to the wealth of Venice 
and Genoa, the "Middlemen" between Europe and the 
East, in that and other commercial products. 

During the Middle Ages the price of pepper was so 
high and it was so much in demand, that to find a new 



96 FOODS AND COOKING 

and cheaper route to bring it to Europe was one of the 
great inducements that led the Portuguese to seek a sea 
route to India, thus indirectly leading to the discovery of 
America. 

The finding of the passage around the Cape of Good 
Hope, therefore, naturally caused a fall in its price. At 
the same time it began to be cultivated in the Malay 
Archipelago. But for three centuries later all pepper 
grown belonged to the Portuguese crown. 



THE DINING ROOM 



THE DINING ROOM 



DINNERS 



O HOUR of all hours, the most blessed upon earth, 
Blessed hour of our dinners ! 
Never, never, oh never ! earth's luckiest sinner 
Hath unpunished forgotten the hour of his dinner ! 
Indigestion, that conscience of every bad stomach, 
Shall relentlessly gnaw and pursue him with some ache 
Or some pain ; and trouble remorseless, his best ease, 
As Furies once troubled the sleep of Orestes. 

We may live without poetry, music, and art ; 

We may live without conscience, and live without 
heart ; 
We may live without friends ; we may live without books, 

But civilized man cannot live without cooks. 
He may live without books — What is knowledge but 
grieving ? 
He may live without hope — What is hope but deceiv- 
ing ? 
He may live without love — What is passion but pining? 
But where is the man that can live without dining ? 
— From " Lucile," by Owen Meredith. 

AN EGYPTIAN DINNER 

In decided contrast to the Roman cheer were the plainer 
dinners of the ancient Egyptians. 

99 



"Q. 



100 THE DINING ROOM 

The beginning of every feast was the bringing in and 
passing round of a coffin ! 

After this appetizer followed the food, abundant but 
not very various.. Fish there was in plenty from the Nile. 
The favorite vegetable was the onion and the root of the 
lotus, though the former was forbidden to the priest. 

Their animal food was usually beef or birds. Mutton 
was never eaten. Dates, figs, and grapes were well liked, 
and abundant fruits, while pastry triangles, leaves, hearts, 
crocodiles' heads, completed their list of desserts. 

A ROMAN DINNER 

Let us imagine the dining hall suitably decorated. The 
nine guests, the number of the Muses, and a favorite 
number with the Roman dinner giver, are seated on their 
cushioned couches. An air of pleased expectancy is on 
their dignified countenances. They have already washed 
themselves and removed their sandals. 

A couple of slaves enter, and deposit on the table the 
dishes of the first course. Observe in the centre an ass 
of bronze, loaded with silver baskets which are filled with 
olives. Astride the ass is a figure of Silenus, a god of wine. 

Close beside Silenus, sausages smoke upon silver grid- 
irons. Beneath these are mimic pies made up of black 
plums and scarlet pomegranate seed. Silver dishes stand 
all about, containing asparagus, lettuce, radishes, and other 
garden products, in addition to lizards flavored both with 
mint and rue, and cooked snails and lobsters. 

The guests fall to ; for a while there is silence. Mean- 
while the noiseless slaves glide round with a mixture of 
honey and wine, which they pour into golden goblets. 

A second and smaller tray now makes its appearance. 
Here, in an elegant basket, sits a carefully carved wooden 
hen, with outspread wings, as if she were brooding. 



DINNERS 101 

From underneath it the slaves take out a quantity of 
eggs which they distribute to the guests together with a 
silver spoon, which is used for breaking them. Each egg 
is found to be made of dough and to enclose a plump little 
bird seasoned with pepper. 

As soon as these are disposed of, enter a procession of 
boys wearing green garlands carrying white bottles brim- 
ful of sparkling wine, nearly a century old. 

After the guests have drunk, the first course of the 
supper proper is served, and each man may satisfy his 
appetite as he will, tempted by ring-doves and fieldfares, 
capons and ducks, mullet and turbot, or by the fatted 
hare in the middle, which the cook with the help of arti- 
ficial wings has converted into Pegasus, the flying horse. 

The second course is heralded with a flourish of horns. 
It consists of a huge boar, surrounded by eight sucking 
pigs, made of paste. From the tusks hang tiny baskets, 
woven of palm twigs and filled with dates. 

Before the guests have made much way into the boar, 
the slaves appear with a dish in which smokes a great fat 
sow. 

The host pretends that the cook has forgotten to dress 
it. He summons him and scolds him in the presence of 
the guests. Thereupon the cook flourishes his knife, 
makes two clever cuts, and lo ! a quantity of all kinds of 
little sausages tumble out. 

This trick is received with much applause. 

In due time, the slaves remove both boar and sow. 
Dishes of peacocks, pheasants, goose livers, and rare fish 
are presented. 

Then the remains of the feast are cleared away. The 
slaves strew the floor with fresh-scented sawdust. From 
this cleansing operation the attention of the guests is 
diverted by the sudden opening of the ceiling, and the 
descent of a large silver hoop. On it are hung beauti- 



102 THE DINING ROOM 

ful trifles of silver and alabaster to be shared among 
them. 

After this everybody settles down to dessert, composed 
of pastry, artificial mussels, fieldfares stuffed with almonds 
and raisins, fancifully cut melons, and savory quinces. 

At last, having dined well if not wisely, the guests 
adjourn to the baths or the colonnades, meeting together 
later. 

— Adapted from " Gallus, or Roman Scenes in the Times of Augus- 
tus," by Professor Bekker. 



A DINNER AT THE HOUSE OF CEDRIC THE SAXON 

In a hall, the height of which was greatly dispropor- 
tioned to its extreme length and width, a long oaken 
table, formed of planks rough hewn from the forest, and 
which had scarcely received any polish, stood ready pre- 
pared for the evening meal of Cedric the Saxon. The 
roof, composed of beams and rafters, had nothing to divide 
the apartment from the sky excepting the planking and 
thatch. There was a huge fireplace at either end of the 
hall, but as the chimneys were constructed in a very 
clumsy manner, at least as much of the smoke found its 
way into the apartment as escaped by the proper vent. 
The constant vapor which this occasioned had polished 
the rafters and beams of the low-browed hall by incrust- 
ing them with a black varnish of soot. On the sides of 
the apartment hung implements of war and of the chase, 
and there were at each end folding doors, which gave 
access to other parts of the extensive building. 

The other appointments of the mansion partook of the 
rude simplicity of the Saxon period, which Cedric piqued 
himself on maintaining. The floor was composed of earth 
mixed with lime, trodden into a hard substance, such as is 
often employed in flooring our modern barns. For about 



DINNERS 103 

one-quarter of the length of the apartment the floor was 
raised by a step, and this space, which was called the dais, 
was occupied only by the principal members of the family 
and visitors of distinction. For this purpose a table richly 
covered with scarlet cloth was placed transversely across 
the platform, from the middle of which ran the longer and 
lower board, at which the domestics and inferior persons 
fed, down toward the bottom of the hall. The whole resem- 
bled the form of the letter T, or some of those ancient din- 
ner tables which, arranged on the same principles, may be 
still seen in the antique colleges of Oxford or Cambridge. 
Massive chairs and settles of carved oak were placed upon 
the dais, and over these seats and the more elevated table 
was fastened a canopy of cloth, which served in some 
degree to protect the dignitaries who occupied that dis- 
tinguished station from the weather, and especially from 
the rain, which in some places found its way through the 
ill-constructed roof. 

The walls of this upper end of the hall, as far as the 
dais extended, were covered with hangings or curtains, 
and upon the floor there was a carpet, both of which were 
adorned with some attempts at tapestry or embroidery, 
executed with brilliant or rather gaudy coloring. Over 
the lower range of table, the roof, as we have noticed, had 
no covering ; the rough-plastered walls were left bare, and 
the rude earthen floor was uncarpeted ; the board was 
uncovered by a cloth and rude, massive benches supplied 
the place of chairs. 

In the centre of the upper table were placed two chairs, 
more elevated than the rest, for the master and mistress 
of the family, who presided over the scene of hospitality, 
and from doing so derived the Saxon title of honor, which 
signifies "The Dividers of Bread." 

To each of these chairs was added a footstool, curiously 
carved and inlaid with ivory, which, mark of distinction 



104 THE DINING ROOM 

was peculiar to them. One of these seats was at present 
occupied by Cedric the Saxon. 

His dress was a tunic of forest green, furred at the 
throat and cuffs with what was called minever ; a kind 
of fur inferior in quality to ermine, and formed, it is 
believed, of the skin of the gray squirrel. This doublet 
hung 1 unbuttoned over a close dress of scarlet which sat 
tight to his body ; he had breeches of the same, but they 
did not reach below the lower part of the thigh, leaving 
the knee exposed. His feet had sandals of the same 
fashion with the peasants, but of finer materials, and 
secured in the front with golden clasps. He had brace- 
lets of gold upon his arms, and a broad collar of the same 
precious metal around his neck. About his waist he wore 
a richly studded belt, in which was stuck a short, straight, 
two-edged sword, with a sharp point, so disposed as to 
hang almost perpendicularly by his side. Behind his seat 
was hung a scarlet cloth cloak lined with fur, and a cap 
of the same materials richly embroidered, which completed 
the dress of the opulent landholder when he chose to go 
forth. A short boar spear, with a broad and bright steel 
head, also reclined against the back of his chair, which 
served him, when he walked abroad, for the purposes of a 
staff or of a weapon, as chance might require. 

Several domestics, whose dress held various proportions 
betwixt the richness of their master's and the coarse and 
simple attire of Gurth, the swineherd, watched the looks 
and waited the commands of the Saxon dignitary. Two 
or three servants of a superior order stood behind their 
master upon the dais ; the rest occupied the lower part 
of the hall ; other attendants there were of a different 
description ; two or three large greyhounds, such as were 
then employed in hunting the stag and wolf ; as many 
slow-hounds of a large, bony breed, with thick necks, 
large head, and long ears ; and one or two of the smaller 



DINNERS 105 

dogs, now called terriers, which waited with impatience 
the arrival of the supper, but with the sagacious knowl- 
edge of physiognomy peculiar to their race, forbore to 
intrude upon the moody silence of their master, apprehen- 
sive, probably, of a small, white truncheon which lay by 
Cedric's trencher, for the purpose of repelling the advances 
of his four-legged dependants. 

Cedric knit his brows and fixed his eyes for an instant 
on the ground; as he raised them, the folding doors at 
the bottom of the hall were cast wide, and preceded by 
the major-domo with his wand, and four domestics bear- 
ing blazing torches, the guests of the evening entered the 
apartment. 

The Prior Aymer had taken the opportunity afforded 
him, of changing his riding robe for one of yet more costly 
materials, over which he wore a cope curiously embroidered. 
Besides the massive golden signet ring, which marked his 
ecclesiastical dignity, his fingers, though contrary to the 
canon, were loaded with precious gems ; his sandals were 
of the finest leather which was imported from Spain ; his 
beard trimmed to as small dimensions as his order would 
possibly permit, and his shaven crown concealed by a scar- 
let cap richly embroidered. 

The appearance of the Knight Templar was also 
changed ; and, though less studiously bedecked with 
ornament, his dress was rich, and his appearance far 
more commanding than that of his companion. He had 
exchanged his shirt of mail for an under tunic of dark 
purple silk, garnished with furs, over which flowed his 
long robe of spotless white, in ample folds. The eight- 
pointed cross of his order was cut on the shoulder of his 
mantle in black velvet. The high cap no longer invested 
his brows, which Avere only shaded by short and thick 
curled hair of a raven blackness, corresponding to his 
unusually swart complexion. Nothing could be more 



106 THE DINING ROOM 

gracefully majestic than his step and manner, had they 
not been marked by a predominant air of haughtiness, 
easily acquired by the exercise of unrestricted authority. 

These two dignified persons were followed by their 
respective attendants, and at a more humble distance by 
their guide, whose figure had nothing more remarkable 
than it derived from the usual weeds of a pilgrim. A 
cloak, or mantle of coarse black serge, enveloped his whole 
body. It was in shape something like the cloak of a 
modern hussar, having similar flaps for covering the arms, 
and was called a Sclaveyn, or Sclavonian. Coarse sandals, 
bound with thongs, on his bare feet ; a broad and shad- 
owy hat, with cockle-shells stitched on its brim, and a long 
staff shod with iron, to the upper end of which was attached 
a branch of palm, completed the palmer's attire. He fol- 
lowed modestly the last of the train which entered the 
hall, and observing that the lower table scarce afforded 
room for the domestics of Cedric and the retinue of his 
guests, he withdrew to a settle placed beside and almost 
under one of the large chimneys, and seemed to employ 
himself in drying his garments, until the retreat of some 
one should make room at the board, or the hospitality of 
the steward should supply him with refreshments in the 
place he had chosen apart. 

Cedric rose to receive his guests with an air of dignified 
hospitality, and descending from the dais, or elevated part 
of his hall, made three steps toward them, and then awaited 
their approach. After some conversation with them, he 
motioned with his hand to two seats a little lower than 
his own, but placed close beside him, and gave a signal 
that the evening meal should be placed upon the board. 

The feast, which was then spread, needed no apologies 
from the lord of the mansion. Swine's flesh, dressed in 
several modes, appeared on the lower part of the board, 
as also that of fowls, deer, goats, and hares, and various 



DINNERS 107 

kinds of fish, together with huge loaves and cakes of 
bread, and sundry confections made of fruits and honey. 
The smaller sorts of wild-fowl, of which there Avas abun- 
dance, were not served up in platters, but brought in 
upon small wooden spits, or broaches, and offered by the 
pages and domestics who bore them, to each guest in 
succession, who cut from them such a portion as he 
pleased. Beside each person of rank was placed a goblet 
of silver ; the lower board was accommodated with large 
drinking horns. 

When the repast was about to commence, the major- 
domo, or steAvard, suddenly raising his wand, said aloud : 
"Forbear! — Place for the Lady Rowena." Aside-door 
at the upper end of the hall now opened behind the ban- 
quet table, and Rowena, followed by- four female attend- 
ants, entered the apartment. Cedric, though surprised, 
and perhaps not altogether agreeably so, at his ward 
appearing in public on this occasion, hastened to meet 
her and to conduct her, with respectful ceremony, to 
the elevated seat at his own right hand, appropriated to 
the lady of the mansion. All stood up to receive her ; 
and replying to their courtesy by a mute gesture of 
salutation, she moved gracefully forward to assume her 

place at the board. 

— From "Ivanhoe," by Sir Walter Scott. 



THE ESKIMO DINNER 

The chief meal time at which the food is, when possible, 
hot, is toward evening. In winter they go to bed, as a rule, 
immediately afterward, and get up very early, often at 2 
A.M., to partake of a cold repast. When it can be man- 
aged, that is, when food is not, as it often is, scarce, the 
five meals fill up the greater part of the day. Nothing is 
eaten raw, unless necessity compels — at most, an occasional 



108 THE DINING ROOM 

bit of blubber. The meat is thrown into a wooden trough 

a yard long, and cut up small by the lady of the house. 

Then all fall to with their fingers. The broth is served 

out in little wooden bowls, or tin pannikins. The favorite 

foods are the flesh, dried blood, or contents of the stomach 

of a reindeer, a mixture of fresh and half -hatched eggs, 

angelica roots, and cranberries, the heads of freshly caught 

fish, and the like. Before spirits found their way thither, 

fresh water, often cooled with ice or snow, was the Eskimo's 

sole drink. It is kept in wooden tubs, prettily inlaid with 

plates and rings of bone, and a dipping cup is always at 

hand. 

— From Ratzel's " History of Mankind." 



THE DEATH OF THE FAMOUS COOK VATEL 

In April, 1671, Louis the Fourteenth, wishing to do 
honor to the Prince of Conde, paid him a visit. The 
details of the fete, which was supreme in its magnificence, 
were superintended by Due d'Enghien himself. The din- 
ner tables were in charge of Vatel. 

The king arrived on Thursday. The hunt, the lanterns, 
the moonlight, the promenading, the collation in a garden 
of jonquils, were all that could be desired. 

Dinner time came. The roast proved insufficient at one 
or two tables, owing to some unexpected guests. 

This upset Vatel. He repeated several times : " My 
honor is lost. This is a disgrace that I cannot endure." 

He said to Gourville: "My head fails me. I have not 
slept for twelve nights. Help me to give my orders." 

Gourville did his best to reassure him. The joints 
which had failed — not at the king's table, but at the 
twenty-fifth — haunted him. 

Gourville told the prince, who went up to his room and 



THE DEATH OF THE FAMOUS COOK VATEL 109 

said to him, "Vatel, all is well; never was anything so 
beautiful as the king's dinner." 

" Your goodness overwhelms me. I know that the roasts 
failed at two tables." 

" Nothing of the kind," said the prince; " do not disturb 
yourself. All is well." 

Midnight comes. The fireworks do not succeed. A 
cloud overspreads them. At four in the morning Vatel 
wanders all over the place. Everything is wrapped in 
slumber. 

He meets a man with two loads of fish. 

" Is that all ? " he asks. 

"Yes, sir." 

The man did not know that Vatel had sent to all the 
great seaport towns in France. The two wait some time. 
No one else makes an appearance. Vatel grows excited. 
He thinks that no more fish will come. 

He seeks out Gourville and says to him : " Sir, I shall 
never be able to live through this disgrace. My honor 
and my reputation are at stake." 

Gourville only laughs at him. 

Then Vatel retires to his own room, puts his sword 
against the door, and runs it through his heart. 

Meanwhile, from all parts, fish come pouring in. Peo- 
ple are looking for Vatel to give his orders for disposing 
of it. They call him. They burst open his door. They 
find him dying. 

The prince is hastily summoned. 

He is in despair. 

He tells the king sadly that it was a fault of his extreme 
code of honor. 

They praised him, and yet they blamed his courage. 
********* 

Gourville endeavored to make up for the loss of Vatel, 
and succeeded. The dinner was excellent. So was the 



110 THE DIKING ROOM 

luncheon. They supped. They walked. There were 
games, and there was hunting. The scent of jonquils 
was everywhere. It was a scene enchanted. 

— Adapted from the "Letters of Madame de Se>igne\" 



DINING WITH A MANDARIN 

Of all the repasts that can be imagined combining the 
greatest amount of ceremony with the least of anything 
eatable, commend us to a state banquet with a Chinese 
mandarin. 

When he is about to give an entertainment, he sends 
three invitations to all those whom he wishes to be his 
guests. One is sent out on each of the two days pre- 
ceding, and the last just before the feast. These are 
received by the invited with much humility and ceremony. 
Unless it is owing to the most pressing and important 
considerations, an invitation is never refused. 

When the guests arrive, the master of the house points 
to a chair, making at the same time a deep bow. He wipes 
it with his gown. He opens the conversation by express- 
ing his delight at the great and unmerited honor that his 
guest has conferred upon the unworthy house. He ex- 
presses the hope that the never-to-be-sufficiently-honored 
wife and beautiful children are well in health. 

To this his guest responds in the same strain. He 
expresses his gratitude that he has been able to bring his 
vile body into this magnificent abode. He says that his 
unworthy wife and miserable offspring are only living 
that they may be assured of his lord's health. And so 
on. 

While each guest is thus exchanging the compliments 
of the day, all of the others are walking about the room, 



DINING WITH A MANDARIN 111 

audibly and extravagantly admiring the furniture and 
ornaments. Not to do so is considered very impolite. 

When the compliments have been finished, the guests 
seat themselves in a beautiful dining room. The walls 
are covered with inscriptions, sometimes gilt, and adorned 
with banners and tapestry. A mandarin of royal blood 
hangs his walls with yellow silk embroidered with fierce 
dragons. 

The blue silk robes and white satin boots of the guests 
form a strong contrast of color to the surroundings. The 
numerous Chinese lanterns suspended from the ceiling 
throw a sufficient but subdued light on a very picturesque 
scene. 

The table is usually of a horse-shoe form. In the 
centre of it a play is sometimes acted during dinner. It 
is covered with little saucers piled one upon the other. 

Some are uncovered and contain sea slugs, ginger, a 
peculiar small orange, and pickles and preserves of all 
sorts. 

The first course is generally shark's fin and birds'-nest 
soup, which to foreigners resembles glue and lime wash. 

To these succeed roasted crab, boiled and stewed man- 
darin fish served with an acrid sauce, resembling molasses 
and alum in flavor. 

Pork, roasted, stewed, and boiled, forms the main part 
of this dinner, with stuffed wild fowl, and very rarely 
stewed mutton. 

The vegetable world is represented by yams and sweet 
potatoes. Huge dishes of curry conclude the more solid 
portion of the dinner. 

It must not be supposed that all these delicacies follow 
each other in the order above stated. All the food is placed 
on the board at the same time. It is minced into small por- 
tions so as to give the guests the least possible trouble. 

The number of separate saucers containing eatables 



112 



THE DINING ROOM 



placed before a stranger shows the honor in which he is 
held. 

When all are seated, their entertainer gives the signal to 
hegin. Each lifts his chopsticks, carries his food to his 
mouth, and lays them clown, all exactly at the same moment. 
This same order is preserved to the end, an officer beating 
time to keep them uniform. 

The dinner lasts three or four hours, but it is not neces- 
sary to eat all the time. It is sufficient to carry the chop- 
sticks to the mouth. Moreover, there is usually a pause in 
the middle of the dinner. 

It is at this moment that the best view of the scene is 
obtained. Leaning back in their chairs, the >fat old man- 
darins await with satisfaction the arrival of " sainshu," a 
drink distilled from rice. This and tea are the only liquids 
consumed. 

Behind each of the mandarins sits a geisha, whose duty 
it is to enliven the dessert with music. In between times 
they crack nuts and peel oranges for the guests. 

At last the feast is over, at a signal from the hostHhe 
assembly breaks up. All the guests make two profound 
bows toward their entertainer and each other. 

The master of the house now abuses the whole affair. 
But the guests assure him they have been sumptuously 
entertained. 

The remains of the feast are divided into equal portions, 
and sent to each of the guests. The next day he sends 
a formal note of thanks for the entertainment that has been 
given him. 

And this is the last ceremony connected with the man- 
darin's dinner. 

— Adapted from ' ' Belgravia. ' ' 



CHRISTMAS DINNER AT BOB CRATCHIT'S 113 

A JAPANESE MEAL 

Each person is separately served on a small table or tray. 
For his solid food he uses chopsticks, bnt his soup he drinks 
from a small lacquered bowl. Upon his table will be found 
a small porcelain bowl of rice, and dishes upon which are 
relishes of fish, etc. ; a teapot, for the contents of which a 
saucer instead of a cup is used. 

The stimulants will be either tea or r rice beer. The tea 
is native green, and no milk or sugar is used. It is drunk 
on every possible occasion, and is even served when one 
visits a shop. The tea apparatus is always in readiness in 
the living room. A laborer going to work carries with 
him a box of lacquered wood for his rice, a kettle, a tea- 
caddy, a teapot, a cup, and chopsticks. 

Rice being the principal article of food, a servant kneels 
near by with a large panful. She replenishes the bowls 
as they are held out to her. Bread is seldom used. 
Other favorite foods are gigantic radishes, lotus roots, 
young bamboo shoots, cucumbers, of which a single per- 
son will often eat three and four in a day, and the egg- 
plant. 

With fruits the Japanese is scantily supplied, but the 
persimmon, a brilliant, orange-colored fruit, the size of an 
apple, is common enough. 

— "Japan and its Art," by Marcus B. Huish. 

CHRISTMAS DINNER AT BOB CRATCHIT'S 

Such a bustle there was ! You might have thought a 
goose was the rarest of all birds; a feathered phenomenon, 
to which a black swan was a matter of course. In truth, 
it was something very like it in that house. 

Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a 



114 THE DINING ROOM 

little saucepan) hissing hot. Master Peter washed the 
potatoes with incredible vigor. Miss Belinda sweetened 
up the apple sauce. Martha dusted the hot plates. Bob 
took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table. 
The two Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forget- 
ting themselves, and mounting guard upon their posts, 
crammed spoons in their mouths, lest they should shriek 
for goose before their turn came to be helped. 

At last the dishes were set on and grace was said. It 
was succeeded by a breathless pause ; Mrs. Cratchit, look- 
ing slowly all along the carving knife, prepared to plunge 
it in the breast. But when she did, and when the long- 
expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of 
delight arose all around the board. Even Tiny Tim, 
excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table 
with the handle of his knife and feebly cried, Hurrah ! 

There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't 
believe there was ever such a goose cooked. Its tender- 
ness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of 
universal admiration. Eked out by apple sauce and mashed 
potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family. 
Indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (survey- 
ing one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn't 
ate it all at last ! Yet every one had had enough. And 
the youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage 
and onion to the eyebrows! 

But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, 
Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone — too nervous to bear 
witnesses — to take the pudding up and bring it in. 

Suppose it should not be done enough ! Suppose it 
should break in turning out ! Suppose somebody should 
have got over the wall of the back yard and stolen it, 
while they were merry with the goose — a supposition at 
which the young Cratchits became livid ! All sorts of 
horrors were supposed. 



CHRISTMAS DINNER AT BOB CRATCHIT's 115 

Hullo ! a great deal of steam. The pudding was out 
of the copper, a smell like washing day ! That was the 
cloth. A smell like an eating house and a pastry cook's 
next door to each other, with a laundress next door to 
that ! That was the pudding ! In half a minute Mrs. 
Cratchit entered — flushed, but smiling proudly — with 
the pudding like a speckled cannon ball, so hard and firm, 
blazing in half of half a quartern of ignited brandy, and 
bedecked with Christmas holly stuck into the top. 

Oh, a wonderful pudding ! Bob Cratchit said, and 
calmly, too, that he regarded it as the greatest success 
achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. 
Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, she 
had her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody 
had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought 
it was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would 
have been flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would 
have blushed to hint at such a thing. 

At last dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the 
hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound 
in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, apples 
and oranges were put upon the table, and a shovelful of 
chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew 
around the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, 
meaning: half a one. At Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the 
family display of glass, two tumblers and a custard cup 
without a handle. 

These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well 
as golden goblets would have done ; and Bob served it out 
with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sput- 
tered and cracked noisily. 

Tiny Tim sat close by his father's side, upon his little 
stool. Bob held his withered little hand in his as if lie 
loved the child, and wished to keep him by his side, and 
dreaded that he might be taken from him. Then Bob 



116 THE DINING ROOM 

proposed : " A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. 
God bless us ! " Which all the family reechoed. " God 
bless us every one ! " said Tiny Tim, the last of all. 

— From "Christmas Carol," by Charles Dickens. 



THE BEDROOM AND VENTILATION 



THE BEDROOM AND VENTILATION 



AN OLD RIDDLE 

Formed long ago, yet made to-day, 
I'm most in use whilst others sleep ; 
What few would wish to give away, 
But fewer still would wish to keep. 
God bless the man that first invented sleep. 

— Laurence Sterne. 



BEDS OF ANIMALS 

The beds of birds are often luxurious and always beauti- 
ful. Some are lined with hair, others with velvet moss, 
or woven feathers, or softest thistledown. 

The cocoons of many insects are built of silk. Others 
sleep on beds of leaves, or wood paper. The wild rabbit 
makes a soft couch of withered leaves and her own fur 
far down in her burrow. The deer loves to rake together 
dead leaves and fern stalks. 



MEXICAN BED— THE HAMMOCK 

Hammocks were invented by the Indians of Spanish 
America. These were made of cotton or plaited grass. 
They were suspended from the boughs of a tall tree by 
ropes of the same material. The Indians used them for 

119 



120 THE BEDROOM AND VENTILATION 

chairs as well as beds. The height at which they were 
swung insured not only the enjoyment of every puff of 
air, but also safety from snakes and insects and the night 
dews. 

They were soon adopted by the Spanish sailors, who 
previous to this had slept on dam}) planks wrapped in a 
blanket. But the advantages of the hammock, yielding as 
it did to every movement of the ship and at the same time 
taking up scarcely any space during the day, led to their 
general adoption in sea service. 



BEDS AND BEDDING 

IN BIBLE TIMES 

" The first bed was in Eden," so says Milton, in his 
" Paradise Lost," and beautifully has he pictured it as 
decked 

" In close recess, 
With flowers, garlands, and sweet-smelling herbs." 

But this was a bed of Nature's making ; and so was 
Jacob's on the road to Padan-aram. The artificial bed is 
what we have now to trace through its historical changes. 
The earliest beds were, no doubt, very simple, like those 
still used in the East — mere mattresses which were spread 
out when needed, and afterward folded up and laid by. 
They were sometimes laid down in the open air, particu- 
larly on the flat tops of houses, where, beneath a covering, 
it was pleasant to spend the night with the cool breezes 
playing round, and bright stars shining overhead. Beds 
such as these are meant when we read in the Bible of 
Christ's calling upon the sick, at the moment of healing, 
to take up their beds and walk. 

All will remember the bedstead of Og, King of Bashan, 
a bedstead of iron, nine cubits long and four cubits wide. 



BEDS AND BEDDING 121 

In Esther we read of beds of gold and silver. In 
Judith, a bed with a tester is mentioned. The bedding 
in those days consisted of padded quilts, one for a mattress, 
and another for a covering. Pillows were sometimes 
used. A veil was thrown over the face of the sleeper to 
keep off gnats and mosquitoes. 



IN GREECE 

In the heroic age of Greece, beds were very simple. 
The poor slept on skins or heaps of leaves. A piece of 
coarse woollen sometimes economically served the double 
purpose of a cloak by day and a blanket at night. Cloth 
of a softer and more costly kind was used by persons of 
higher rank, both as a cushion for the chair and a covering 
for the bed. 

So full is the information given in the Greek classics 
that we can easily picture a bedroom in Athens. 

Before the door hangs a costly carpet. The bedstead 
is of maplewood, veneered, or may be of bronze, or, at 
a later period, of tortoise shell. 

At the top there is fastened an ornamented board to 
support the head. Girths are stretched across to sup- 
port the mattress, which is covered with linen, and 
sometimes with cloth or leather. The stuffing is of wool 
or leaves. A striped cushion filled with feathers forms 
the pillow. Blankets are used surmounted by a splendid 
coverlet. In cold weather, furs are used ; stuffed cover- 
lets, too, somewhat like the eiderdown beds of France and 
Germany. The feet of the bedstead peep forth from 
under the rich coverlet, and are of carved ivory. The 
floor is covered with an Asiatic carpet, the East being 
then, as it is now, famous for such articles. A table 
of veneered maple, with three goats' feet of bronze, is 



122 THE BEDROOM AND VENTILATION 

placed just by the bedstead, and in one of the corners of 
the apartment is a tripod containing a copper coal pan, 
to warm the room in chilly weather. Stools of ebony 
with colored cushions complete the furniture of the com- 
fortable and elegant chamber. 



IN ROME 

In the early days of the republic the beds and beddings 
of the Romans were probably of the same kind as those 
used by the Greeks. But later these, as other things, far 
exceeded those of their ancestors in splendor. The Roman 
bed of those later days was in form similar to our own 
brass or iron bedsteads. But it was made of more costly 
material. Tortoise shell and ivory were frequently used, 
and the feet were sometimes even of silver and gold. 
The mattress was white, striped with violet and spotted 
with gilt stars. The cushion-like pillow was of violet. 
Feather beds and counterpanes were in use among the 
Romans, and were often of purple richly embroidered. 
Canopies and curtains were sometimes used. 

On the toilet table might be seen combs, earrings, gold 
pins, mirrors, and lamps, in short, all the articles of use 
and ornament which are now used by the modern fine 
lady. 

IN ENGLAND 

Illuminated manuscripts give us pictures of old Anglo- 
Saxon beds. Some had testers and footboards ; some had 
posts with a canopy resembling the roof of a house ; others 
had large thick hanging curtains attached to ponderous 
rings. Bedclothes and sheets were things especially 
prized. An Anglo-Saxon lady gives to one of her chil- 
dren two chests and their contents, he?' best bed curtain, 



THE AERIAL OCEAN IN WHICH WE LIVE 123 

linen, and all the clothes belonging to it. To another she 
leaves two chests and all the bedclothes that to one bed belong. 

— Adapted from "Leisure Hour." 

IN RUSSIA 

In Russia the servants are in the habit of lying anywhere, 
in the passages, on the floors, on mats at the room doors, 
or even on the carpets in the sitting room. The houses are 
kept so warm that great quantities of bedclothing are not 
needed. 

The emperors themselves used to sleep on a leather sofa, 
and without removing the underclothing. 



THE AERIAL OCEAN IN WHICH WE LIVE 

Did you ever sit on the bank of a river in some quiet spot 
where the water was deep and clear, and watch the fishes 
swimming lazily along ? When I was a child, this was one 
of my favorite occupations in the summer time. There 
was one question which often puzzled me greatly, as I 
watched the minnows and gudgeon gliding along through 
the water. Why should fishes live in something, and be 
often buffeted about by waves and currents, while I and 
others lived on top of the earth and not in anything ? 

I do not remember ever asking any one about this.- If I 
had, in those days people did not pay much attention to 
children's questions, and probably nobody would have told 
me, what I now tell you, that we do live in something quite 
as real, and often quite as rough and stormy as the water 
in which the fishes swim. The something in which we live 
is air. The reason that we do not perceive it is that we 
are in it and that it is a gas, and invisible to us ; while we 



124 THE BEDROOM AND VENTILATION 

are above the water in which the fishes live, and it is a 
liquid which our eyes can perceive. 

But let us suppose for a moment that a being, whose 
eyes were so made that he could see gases as we see liquids, 
was looking down from a distance upon our earth. He 
would see an ocean of air all around the globe, with birds 
floating about in it, and people walking along the bottom, 
just as we see fish gliding along the bottom of a river. It 
is true, he would never see even the birds come near to the 
surface, for our atmosphere is at least one hundred miles 
high. So he would call us all deep-air creatures, just as 
we talk of deep-sea animals ; and if we can imagine 4hat 
he fished in this air ocean, and could pull one of us out 
of it into space, he would find that we should gasp and 
die just as fishes do when pulled out of the water. 

He would also observe very curious things going on in 
our air ocean. He would see large streams and currents 
of air, which we call winds, and which would appear to him 
as ocean currents do to us, while near down to the earth 
he would see thick mists forming, and then disappearing 
again, and these would be our clouds. From them he 
would see rain, hail, and snow falling to the earth. From 
time to time bright flashes would shoot across the air-ocean, 
which would be our lightning. Nay, even the brilliant rain- 
bow, the northern aurora borealis, and the falling stars, 
which seem to us so high up in space, would be seen by 
him near to our earth, and all within the aerial ocean. 

But as we know of no such being living in space, who 
can tell us what takes place in our invisible air, and we 
cannot see it ourselves, we must try by experiments to see 
it with our imagination, though we cannot with our eyes. 

First, then, can we discover what air is ? At one 
time it was thought that it was a simple gas and could not 
be separated into more than one kind. It has been proved 
many times, even in schoolrooms, that air is made of gases 



THE AERIAL OCEAN IX WHICH WE LIVE 125 

mingled together. One of these gases is called oxygen and 
is used up when anything barns, while the other, nitrogen, 
is not used and only serves to dilute the oxygen. It is 
now known that there is still another element always 
present in air, namely, the lately discovered argon. 

I have here a glass bell -jar, with cork tightly fixed in 
the neck. I place this jar over a pan of water, while on 
the water floats a plate with a small piece of phosphorus 
upon it. You will see that by putting the bell-jar over 
the water, I have shut up a certain quantity of air, and 
my object now is to use up the oxygen out of this air and 
leave only the nitrogen behind. To do this I must light 
the piece of phosphorus, for you remember that it is in 
burning that oxygen is used up. I will take out the 
cork, light the phosphorus, and cork up the jar again. 
See ! as the phosphorus burns white fumes fill the jar. 
These fumes are phosphoric acid, which is a substance 
made of phosphorus and oxygen. 

Now phosphoric acid dissolves in water, just as sugar 
does. In a few minutes these fumes will disappear. 

Thejr are beginning to dissolve already, and the water 
from the pan is rising up in the bell- jar. Why is this ? 

Consider for a moment what we have done. First the 
jar was full of air, that is, of mixed oxygen and nitrogen. 
Then the phosphorus used up the nitrogen, making white 
fumes. Afterward, the water sucked up these fumes. 
And so, in the jar nitrogen is the only gas left and water 
has risen up to fill all the rest of the space that was once 
taken up with the oxygen. But notice that the water at 
the most only occupies about one-fifth of the space in the 
jar. From this we conclude that oxygen is only about 
one-fifth of the atmosphere. 

We can easily prove that there is no oxygen left in the 
jar. Take out the cork and let the lighted taper down 
into the gas. If there were any oxygen, the taper would 



126 THE BEDROOM AND VENTILATION 

burn, but you see it goes out quickly. This proves that 
all the oxygen has been used up by the phosphorus. 

It is the oxygen which we use up when we breathe. If I 
had put a mouse under the bell- jar, instead of phosphorus, 
the water would have risen just the same, because the 
mouse would have breathed in the oxygen and used it up 
in his body, joining it to carbon and making carbon diox- 
ide, which would also dissolve in water. Then when all 
the oxygen was used, the mouse would have died. 

Do you see now how foolish it is to live in rooms that 
are closely shut up, or to hide your head under the bed- 
clothes when you sleep ? You use up all the oxygeff, and 
then there is none left for you to breathe. Besides this, 
you send out of your mouth a gas which you cannot see, 
it is true, but which if you rebreathe it, instead of oxygen, 
will make you ill. 

Perhaps you will sa}", if oxygen is so useful, why is not 
the air made entirely of it ? But think for a moment. If 
there was such an immense quantity of oxygen, how fear- 
fully fast everything would burn. Our bodies would soon 
rise above fever heat from the quantity of oxygen we should 
take in, and all fires and lights would burn furiously. In 
fact, a flame once lighted would spread so rapidly that no 
power on earth could stop it, and everything would be 
destroyed. So the lazy nitrogen is very useful in keeping 
the oxygen atoms apart, and we have time, even when a 
fire is very large and powerful, to put it out before it has 
drawn in more and more oxygen from the surrounding air. 
Often, if you can shut a fire into a closed space, as in a 
closely shut room, or the hold of a ship, it will go out, 
because it has used up all the oxygen in the air. 

If we examine ordinary air very carefully, we find small 
quantities of other gases in it besides oxygen and nitrogen. 
First, there is carbon dioxide. This is the gas that we 
give out of our mouths after we have burnt up the oxygen 



DUST 127 

with the carbon of our bodies inside our lungs. This car- 
bon dioxide is also given out from everything that burns. 
If only animals lived in the world, this gas would soon 
practically poison the air. But the plants get hold of it, 
and in the sunshine they break it up again, using up the 
carbon. In consequence a great deal of oxygen is thrown 
back into the air for us to use. Secondly, there are also 
very small quantities of ammonia in the air. This, too, is 
useful to plants when finally it is washed down into the 
soil. 

But in addition to these two impurities, the air of towns 
particularly contain other injurious products, thrown off 
by sewers or a necessary consequence of certain manufac- 
tures. This is especially true of the narrow streets of the 
crowded portions. In the open spaces and wide streets 
the impurities are not nearly so great. 

— Adapted from "Fairy Land of Science," Arabella Buckley. 



DUST 

Dust is ever with us. With every breath we inhale 
more or less of it, and are exposed to its many dangers. 
In houses and workshops, on the highways and in the 
streets, everywhere there is wear and tear of things, and 
the product is always dust. 

The wearing and cleansing of our clothing is continu- 
ally breaking up its fibres into minute particles. The 
friction of the clothing on the skin carries away the scales 
that are constantly being shed and renewed. Every touch 
of human feet, horses' hoofs, and the wheels of vehicles 
with paving and road materials wears away particles of 
iron and stone. The effects of the weather wear off all 
exposed surfaces. 

To these particles which form the dust, invariably pres- 



128 THE BEDROOM AND VENTILATION 

ent in houses and in the streets, there must be added the 
innumerable germs floating in the air. 

Dust, therefore, consists of portions of all substances 
which decay by natural processes and are reduced to 
powder by any means whatever. These can scarcely be 
recognized by the naked eye. It must call the microscope 
to its aid. 

An important problem of modern hygiene is the ques- 
tion of protection against this ever present enemy, dust. 

If houses are to gain in healthfulness, they must be much 
more carefully cleansed than is usually done. Especially 
is this true of the homes of the poorer classes. 

They are, it is true, daily, or almost daily, cleaned and 
swept, besides being occasionally damp- wiped or sprinkled, 
but all this is done but superficially at the best. Dust is 
removed from the more prominent articles by dry dusting; 
floors are swept dry, — moisture would injure the furni- 
ture. The coarsest elements of the dust are by this pro- 
cess certainly removed from houses, but the finer and more 
dangerous are merely whirled up into the air to settle 
again into places not reached every day. There they 
accumulate until the "big cleaning." And even then 
they are sometimes only whirled up again. 

The carpets, curtains, and various hangings of the 
modern house provide favorite resting places for dust. 
For its proper removal certain conditions are necessary. 
These are, first, a daily airing of the rooms, second, damp 
wiping of all furniture and other articles, and third, the 
cleansing of the floor with the help of water. 

But even should the cleansing of the dwellings be most 
carefully carried out, there still remains the question of 
disposing of the refuse. Instead of being burned on the 
spot, as it should be, it is put into open vessels, and from 
these into dust-bins, and from the dust-bins to the open 
wagons, which then wend their way through the public 



BACTERIA 129 

streets. Every gust of wind wafts away a portion of 
their contents and carries it into the houses. 

Closed portable vessels should be placed in each house, 
and carried away at least twice a week in carts with mov- 
able iron covers. Moisture should be liberally employed, 
so that the refuse may be kept too damp to be scattered 
by the wind. 

These precautions are still more necessary in cleaning 
streets. The cheapest means of doing this is water and 
the revolving brush of the street-sweeping machines. 
With both together, on a large enough scale, with abun- 
dance of water and plenty of hands, the best possible 
would be done. 

But usually the watering is insufficient, there are too 
few sweepers. In hot weather, when the need is greatest, 
water is so sparingly sprinkled that it has dried up before 
the sweeper comes on the ground. This work is, there- 
fore, almost worse than useless. 

The cost of town and city cleansing can hardly be too 

great, for there is no better way to spend public money. 

It means the prevention of sickness, and sickness is very 

costly. 

— Adapted from "All the Year Round." 



BACTERIA 

What are bacteria ? Perhaps some of you will answer 
at once, " disease germs." And yet the closing sentence of 
one of the best popular books on the subject, Conn's " Story 
of Germ Life," is : " Once in a while they may sweep off a 
hundred or a thousand individuals ; but it is equally true 
that without them, plant and animal life would be impos- 
sible on the face of the earth." 

These wonderful little plants are so tiny that their exist- 



130 THE BEDROOM AND VENTILATION 

ence even was not suspected until after the invention of 
the microscope, and it was not until our own time, indeed, 
that anything except their appearance and name were 
known. It was the great French scientist, Louis Pasteur, 
who first discovered many of the vital facts with reference to 
them, and first paved the way for the discoveries of others. 

Bacteria have been compared to billiard balls, lead pencils, 
and corkscrews. For these three forms represent all the 
different shapes that they assume. Under the microscope 
they are always colorless. Nevertheless, many of them 
when growing naturally, millions of them in a single spot, 
are quite vivid in color. The most familiar example of 
this is the red that often appears upon starchy food, 
such as the potato, and was supposed by ignorant peasants 
to be a miraculous appearance of the blood of Christ. 

Bacteria are found everywhere in the earth, in water, 
in the air. But in most places they are dormant. Give 
them food and they at once spring into life, multiplying 
marvellously. It has been estimated that one bacterium 
in a single day will produce something like sixteen and a 
half million descendants. It is this wonderful power of 
multiplication which makes bacteria so important. One 
reason why they multiply so rapidly is that, unlike most 
plants, they feed, not on mineral matter, water, and gases, 
but on food which has been made from these and is already 
to be used. In eating even this, however, it takes from 
it just what it wants, leaving the rest behind. This is 
like pulling one card from a card house, — the whole falls 
to pieces and is no longer a house, but merety a pack of 
cards. For example, the bacterium that lives on the apple 
juice gets what he wants from the juice. The other in- 
gredients separate from each other and the result is cider. 
Other bacteria feed on the cider, and it in turn is broken 
up into vinegar. 

Whenever in the manufacture of any article you read 



BACTERIA 131 

that in its natural state it was first exposed to the weather, 
then you may know that the manufacturer is merely call- 
ing to his aid bacteria. It is for this reason that the parts 
of the plants from which flax, jute, hemp, and cocoanut 
fibre are made are soaked in water, heated, and exposed to 
the air; that cider is exposed to the air in order to change 
it to vinegar; that the leaves of indigo are placed in a 
large vat of water ; that the cacao fruit is put in the 
ground ; that tobacco leaves are left in heaps to cure. 
It is indeed only by exposing these materials to the air, 
always rich in bacteria, under favorable conditions of 
warmth and moisture, that the bacteria get the opportu- 
nity to do their work. 

But the changes brought about by the bacteria of the 
air are not always so helpful to man. Who likes to have 
milk sour on her hands ? Yet bacteria serve excellent 
purposes in dairying. To them we owe the fine flavors of 
butter and cheese. 



THE LAUNDRY 



THE LAUNDRY 



WASHING 

Cleanliness is next to godliness ; some people even say 
that cleanliness is godliness. A clean mind and conscience 
in a clean body is the nearest approach to purity we can 
fancy here below. The two great human ills which mainly 
cause men to fear misfortune and poverty are the conse- 
quent hunger and dirtiness which they entail. When that 
heroic impostor, Cagliostro, at last fell into the rat-trap of 
a Roman prison, he implored of his jailers two favors only 
— the visits of his wife and a supply of clean linen. 

Different nations differ greatly in their notions of per- 
sonal cleanliness, as do also different classes in the same 
nation. It lias been said that the people of modern Rome, 
the direct descendants of the conquerors of the world, 
receive two complete washings from head to foot, not dur- 
ing their lives, but one as soon as they are born and 
another as soon as they are dead. Some Orientals by 
their singular habits quite neutralize the effect of their 
frequent ablutions by wearing a silken shirt which they 
rarely change, or which they wear perhaps till it falls to 
pieces. They may be said to be clean only while they are 
in their bath. 

To have clean linen, we must know how to clean it. A 
few hints on washing may be welcome. If the subject be 
humble, at least it is useful. And, after all, the state of a 
man's shirt comes home to his feelings quite as much as 

135 



136 THE LAUNDRY 

the state of the starry firmament ; the spots which we find 
upon our linen are quite as interesting, though not so big, 
as the spots discovered on the sun. 

In the first place, what is the best tiling to do with linen 
when soiled ? A proper answer would be, " Wash it." 
But, as there always must be an interval between the soil- 
ing and the washing, how is it best disposed of during 
that interval ? 

Except in cases of absolute necessity, as in besieged 
towns, or on board ship during long sea voyages, linen 
(and other articles of clothing) should neither be kept long 
unclean nor massed in large quantities, and that for im- 
portant reasons. In many parts of France, it is customary 
for families to have an immense stock of linen, so as to 
wash only once in six months, when they hold what they 
call a monster washing. All the hedges on the farm, 
all the grass on the estate, are hung and spread with white 
for days together. The comfort in the house during this 
washing bout and the consequences to the linen itself 
may be imagined without any effort. 

A good housekeeper will contrive to keep her soiled linen 
as short a time as possible. The sooner she washes it, the 
less trouble she will have. The stains will be easier to 
remove ; the gums composing them will not have time to 
dry, nor the oils to thicken. One cause of un healthiness 
to her family will be avoided ; and her stock of linen — 
a valuable portion of her household capital — will be 
exposed to much fewer chances of spoiling. The small 
quantity which she is obliged to keep, instead of being 
thrown in a heap, will be hung on a rope stretched in a 
dry and airy place. 

Even in an economical point of view, the washing ques- 
tion is interesting. The humblest establishment is obliged 
to make it enter, in some form or other, into its budget. 
Even if the wife wash at home, there is at least the 



WASHING 187 

expense of soap, soda, and fire. Every French soldier used 
to cost eight cents per week for washing ; improved meth- 
ods have now reduced it to two cents or a trifle less. 

To this very considerable payment for washing should 
be added another, which is still more important, namely, the 
deterioration of the tissues. We are only too well aware 
how quickly washerwomen wear our linen out. Every 
time it comes from the wash, the diminution of its value 
is greater than the cost of the operation. This second 
outlay, coming on top of the first, falls particularly heavy 
on the laboring classes. The workman, as long as he has 
employment, is generally able to meet his current expenses 
with tolerable ease. Among these is that of washing. 
Extraordinary expenses press harder upon him. The re- 
newal of a worn-out stock of linen becomes a very serious 
business. To discover less expensive modes of washing, 
and modes less injurious to the linen, is therefore a problem 
of equal economical and hygienic importance. It is known 
that the operation of washing, when ill performed, is 
unhealthy even for those who perform it. The solution of 
the problem will, as its immediate consequence, allow the 
working classes to possess more linen, and to wash it more 
frequently; and, setting aside foolish and ignorant preju- 
dices, sanitary professors know how favorable a frequent 
change of linen is to the health, especially for those who 
toil and perspire. 

For greasy matters, substances must be employed which 
enable water to carry them off. Tf any fatty body, as 
tallow or oil, remain in contact with an alkali, as soda or 
potash, for a certain time and at a certain temperature, 
there is formed by their union another body, soap, which 
possesses the remarkable quality not only of being dis- 
solved itself in water, but also of dissolving greasy bodies 
in its own solution. Take this familiar illustration : You 
smear your hands with oil. You wash them in the softest 



138 THE LAUNDRY 

rain-water in vain. The oil will not quit your skin by 
combination with the water, as syrup, salt, or treacle would. 
You therefore take soap. The outer surface of the soap 
soon becomes dissolved in the water, and into this solution 
the oil will enter, and your hands come out of their trouble 
clean. 

Similarly, to remove from linen the greasy matter 
which, in spite of the application of water, retains dirt in 
it, we must either dissolve that grease in soapy water, or 
we must transform the grease itself into a soap by means 
of an alkali, in order to be able subsequently to dissolve 
the new-made soap in water, and so get rid of all the 
impurities at once. Soap's property of forming a solution 
with which oil and grease will combine is shared by a few 
other substances ; by yolk of egg^ for instance, and cer- 
tain vegetables. The stems of common soapwort, if 
crushed and beaten up with water, cause it to froth 
exactly like soap, and render like services for washing 
purposes. There is a double-flowered variety which is 
pretty enough to be encouraged, if it were not so weedy 
and troublesome. When once established on a bank or 
other spot where there are many matted roots, it is next 
to impossible to get rid of it. Besides this, there is a hot- 
house plant, the soap tree, which bears fruit the size of a 
walnut. Crushed upon linen it has the same effect as 
soap, producing a white, thick froth, which takes out 
grease wonderfully well, the proof of which is its success 
in purifying negro clothing. In default of genuine and 
actual soap, these substances, which give water the power 
of dissolving grease, are at least worth bearing in mind 
for the removal of grease-spots from tissues and stuffs. 

Soap, therefore, is a peacemaker, a means of union 
between two antagonistic substances, oil and water. It is 
a neutral ground, on which those very inimical substances 
are able to come to an understanding and work together. 



LAUNDRY WORK IN ITALY 139 

Its value consists in that we have in it a great cleansing 
power compressed into a very small space. The applica- 
tion of soap as a cleansing agent is not of high antiquity. 
Soap, at first, was merely a cosmetic for smoothing the 
hair and brightening the complexion. When once its 
valuable cleansing powers were discovered, — doubtless by 
accident, — its employment spread rapidly; numerous soap 
manufactories sprang up in Italy, notably in the little sea- 
port town of Cavona, near Genoa, whence the French 
name of soap, sdvon. The manufacture spread in Spain 
and France. Marseilles became famous for its marbled 

soaps. 

— Adapted from "All the Year Round." 



LAUNDRY WORK IN ITALY 

The Italians wash, not in their houses, but in convenient 
lakes or streams. They carry the clothes there in a long 
basket fitted to their backs, broad at the top, but narrow 
at the base. On each side are long handles through which 
they slip their hands. They present a most picturesque 
appearance, walking along with erect heads and carrying 
the washboard easily in one hand. Their equipment con- 
sists of a board with side pieces, wider at the upper than 
at the lower end. Therefore, when they rest it on the 
ground, it slopes toward the water. At the top is a cross- 
piece which helps to keep their dresses from being spat- 
tered. They kneel on a cushion and rub the soiled places 
with a brush in shape resembling our scrubbing brush. 
Then, leaning over the board, they sling the clothes back 
and forth. Again they scrub and again they rinse them in 
the stream. When this process has been repeated several 
times, they twist them dry and spread them over the 
stones along the shore or, perhaps, on the bushes near by. 



140 THE LAUNDRY 

ABOUT COMMON WATER 

I propose now to talk to you for half an hour about 
water in its more common and domestic forms. On the 
importance of water it is not necessary to dwell, for it 
is obvious that upon its presence depends the life of the 
world. As an article of human diet, its importance is 
enormous. Not to speak of fruits and vegetables and 
confining ourselves to flesh, every four pounds of boneless 
meat purchased at the butcher's shop contain about three 
pounds of water. I remember Mr. Carlyle once describ- 
ing an author, who was making a great stir at the time, as 
"a weak, watery, insipid creature." But, in a literal and 
physical sense, we are all " watery." The muscles of a man 
weighing one hundred and fifty pounds weigh, when moist, 
sixty-four pounds, but of these nearly fifty pounds are 
mere water. 

It is not, however, of the water compacted in the 
muscles and tissues of a man that I am now going to 
speak, but of the ordinary water that we see everywhere 
around us. Whence comes our drinking water? A little 
reflection might enable you to reply, " If you go back far 
enough, you will find that it comes from the clouds which 
send their rain down upon the earth." " But how," it may 
be asked, " does the water get up into the cloud region ? " 
Your reply will probably be, " It is carried up by evapora- 
tion from the waters of the earth." 

Let it then be admitted that water rises into the air by 
evaporation ; and that in the air it forms the clouds which 
discharge themselves upon us as rain, hail, and snow. If 
you look for the source of any great American river, you 
will find it in some mountain land, where, in its infancy, 
it is a mere stream. Added to, gradually, by other tribu- 
tary streams, it becomes broader and deeper, until finally 
it reaches the noble magnitude of the Mississippi or the 



ABOUT COMMON WATER 141 

Ohio. A considerable portion of the rain-water sinks into 
the earth, trickles through its pores and fissures, coming 
here and there to light as a clear spring. We have now 
to consider how spring-water is affected by the rocks, or 
gravel, or sand, or soil, through which it passes. 

The water drawn from my well comes from what geolo- 
gists call the greensand. Within sight of my balcony rise 
the well-known South Downs, which are hills of chalk cov- 
ered with verdure. Now, if a bucket of water were taken 
from my well, and a similar bucket from a well in the 
South Downs, and if both buckets were handed over to a 
laundress, she would have no difficulty in telling you 
which she would prefer. With my well-water, it would 
be easy to produce a beautiful lather. With the South 
Downs well-water, it would be very difficult to do so. In 
common language, the one kind of water is soft, like rain- 
water, while the other is hard. 

We have now to analyze and understand the meaning of 
"hard water," and to examine some of its effects. Sup- 
pose, then, three porcelain basins to be filled, the first with 
pure rain-water, the second with greensand-water, and the 
third with chalk-water, — all three waters at first being 
equally bright and transparent. Suppose the three basins 
placed on a warm hob, or even exposed to the open air, 
until the water of each basin has wholly evaporated. In 
evaporation, the water only disappears ; the mineral mat- 
ter remains. What, then, is the result ? In the rain-water 
basin, you have nothing left behind ; in the greensand- 
water basin, you have a small residue of solid mineral mat- 
ter ; in the chalk- water basin, you have a comparatively 
larsfe residue. The reason of this is that chalk is soluble 
in rain-water, and dissolves in it, like sugar or salt, though 
to a far less extent ; while the water of my well, coming 
from the greensand, which is hardly soluble at all, is 
almost as soft as rain-water. 



142 THE LAUNDRY 

The simple boiling of water is sufficient to precipitate a 
considerable quantity of the mineral matter dissolved in 
it. One familiar consequence of this is that kettles and 
boilers in which hard water is used become rapidly in- 
cr listed within, while no such incrustation is formed by 
soft water. Hot-water pipes are sometimes choked by 
such incrustation ; and the boilers of steamers have been 
known to be so thickly coated as to prevent the access of 
heat to the water within them. Not only was their coal 
thus wasted, but it has been found necessary, in some 
cases, to burn the very spars in order to bring the steam- 
ers into port. 

— Adapted from "New Fragments," by Tyndall. 



INDIGO 

In all the Eastern states, in sandy soil, may be seen a 
much branched herb with abundant yellow flowers and 
small bluish green leaves which blacken when dried. It 
is so abundant and so bushy that in New England it is 
often picked to put over the heads of horses to protect 
them from flies. It belongs to the Pea family and is 
called wild indigo. 

It was from a shrub very similar to this that the best 
quality of indigo was formerly obtained. The plant itself 
is a native of Hindostan, but it was introduced into the 
United States from the West Indies. 

This is the interesting and curious story of its intro- 
duction. 

George Lucas was a governor in the West Indies and at 
the same time the owner of a South Carolina plantation. 
His daughter Eliza, coming from the West Indies to South 
Carolina, noticed the luxuriance with which the wild indigo 
flourished in her new home. Knowing the commercial 



INDIGO 143 

value of the plant from her life in the West Indies, it 
occurred to her that it might be quite worth while to try 
to cultivate the indigo in this country. 

She sent to her father for seed. The first crop planted 
in March was destroyed by frost ; the second, in April, 
was cut down by a worm, but the third attempt proved 
successful. 

Governor Lucas then sent to her aid from the West 
Indies an expert indigo-maker. He built several large 
vats and made some indigo from Eliza's plant, but it was 
of poor quality. The truth of the matter was that he 
feared to injure this industry in his own country. So he 
threw in too much lime. But Miss Lucas detected the 
fraud and at once engaged some one else to help. 

She was so successful in these experiments that the 
cultivation of indigo rapidly spread. The American 
indigo, too, was found to yield an excellent product, 
though less abundantly than the imported species. " In- 
digo either tame or wild enables them to give a beautiful 
blue to their homespuns," was said of the American women 
in the time of the Revolution. 

Fine qualities sold for large prices, and fortunes were 
made in its cultivation. It was a veritable gold mine to 
South Carolina. Ramsay, in his " History of South 
Carolina," says, " A larger number of children were sent to 
England for education from South Carolina than from any 
of the colonies, and this on account of the greater wealth 
of the colony, owing to the superiority of her products — 
rice and indigo — which gave her abundant means." 

In the meantime Eliza Lucas married Charles Pinckney, 
who was afterward chief justice of Carolina, and their 
son was the illustrious Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, 
who said, " Millions for defence, but not one cent for 
tribute ! " 

After the Revolution, however, the indigo trade declined, 



144 THE LAUNDRY 

and other crops took its place, — first rice, and then, after 
the invention of the cotton-gin, cotton. 

Nevertheless it was still made in small quantities for 
domestic use. It is to this period that the story of the 
following famous recipe belongs : — 

" Take a clean new cedar or cypress piggin ; fill it three- 
thirds full of clean spring water ; put into it a lump of 
indigo as big as a hen's egg^ and, if good, it will sink or 
swim, I have forgotten which ! " 

Nowadays the indigo bag of our grandmothers has given 
way to the " bluings," almost all of which are made from 
Prussian blue. These are much cheaper, but it is abso- 
lutely necessary that the clothes should be rinsed free 
from soap before using them. Otherwise the bluing will 
be decomposed and its iron give rise to the mysterious 
spots, iron rust. 



HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE 
CLEANING 



HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE 
CLEANING 



HOUSE CLEANING 

The practice of annual house cleaning, so often care- 
lessly and hurriedly performed, is peculiarly favorable to 
the development of the carpet beetles. Two house clean- 
ings would be better than one, and if but one, it would be 
better to undertake it in midsummer than at any other time 
of the year. Where convenience or conservatism demands 
an adherence to the old custom, however, we have simply 
to insist upon extreme thoroughness and a slight variation 
in the customary methods. The rooms should be attended 
to, one or two at a time. The carpets should be taken up, 
thoroughly beaten, and sprayed out of doors with benzine, 
and allowed to air for several hours. The rooms them- 
selves should be thoroughly swept and dusted, the floors 
washed down with hot water, the cracks carefully cleaned 
out, and kerosene or benzine poured in the cracks and 
sprayed under the baseboards. The extreme inflammabil- 
ity of benzine, and especially of its vapor when confined, 
should be remembered, and fire carefully guarded against. 
Where the floors are poorly constructed, and the cracks are 
wide, it will be a good idea to fill the cracks with plaster of 
Paris in a liquid state ; this will afterward set and lessen 
the number of harboring places for the insect. Before 
relaying the carpet, tarred roofing paper should be laid 

147 



148 HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE CLEANING 

upon the floor, at least around the edges, but preferably 
over the entire surface, and when the carpet is relaid, it 
will be well to tack it down rather lightly so that it can be 
occasionally lifted at the edges and examined for the pres- 
ence of the insect. Later in the season, if such an exami- 
nation shows the insect to have made its appearance, a good 
though somewhat laborious remedy consists in laying a 
damp cloth smoothly over the suspected spot of the carpet 
and ironing it with a hot iron. The steam thus generated 
will pass through the carpet and kill the insects immedi- 
ately beneath it. 

These strenuous measures, if persisted in, are the only 
hope of the good housekeeper, so long as the system of hav- 
ing carpets covering the entire floor surface is adhered to. 
Good housekeepers are conservative people ; but we expect 
eventually to see a more general adoption of the rug, or of 
the square of carpet, which may at all times be readily 
examined and treated, if found necessary. Where the 
floors are bad, the practice of laying straw mattings under 
the rugs produces a sightly appearance, and, while not as 
cleanly as a bare floor, affords still fewer harboring places 
for this insect. 

— Adapted from "The Principal Household Insects of the United 
States," by L. O. Howard and C. L. Marlatt. 



CARPET-BEETLE 

All the year round, in well-heated houses, but more fre- 
quently in summer and fall, an active brown larva, a 
quarter of an inch or less in length, and clothed with stiff 
brown hairs, which are longer around the sides and still 
longer at the ends than on the back, feeds upon carpets and 
woollen goods, working in a hidden manner from the under 
surface, sometimes making irregular holes, but more fre- 



STORY OF THE CLOTHES-MOTH 149 

quently following the line of a floor crack and cutting long 
slits in a carpet. 

The adult insect is a small, broad, oval beetle, about 
three-sixteenths of an inch long, black in color, but is 
covered with exceedingly minute scales which give it a 
marbled black and white appearance. It also has a red 
stripe down the middle of the back, widening into projec- 
tions at three intervals. When disturbed, it " plays 'pos- 
sum," folding up its legs and antenna} and feigning death. 
As a general thing, the beetles begin to appear in the fall, 
and continue to issue in heated houses throughout the 
winter and following spring. 

In Europe, the insect is not especially noted as a house- 
hold pest, and we are inclined to think that this is owing 
to the fact that carpets are little used. In fact, we believe 
that only where carpets are extensively used are the condi- 
tions favorable for the great increase of the insect. 
Carpets once put down are seldom taken up for a year, and 
in the meantime the insect develops uninterruptedly. 
Where polished floors and rugs are used, the rugs are 
often taken up and beaten, and in the same way, woollens 
and furs are never allowed to remain undisturbed for an 
entire year. It is a well-known fact that the carpet habit is 
a bad one from other points of view, and there is little 
doubt that if carpets were more generally discarded in our 
more northern states, the " buffalo bug " would gradually 
cease to be the household pest that it is to-day. 

— Adapted from "The Principal Household Insects of the United 
States," by L. 0. Howard and C. L. Marlatt. 



STORY OF THE CLOTHES-MOTH 

" Permit me to add my contribution to the museum," 
said the mistress, entering the room. She bore in her 



150 HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE CLEANING 

hands a rug, which she hung over the back of a chair close 
to the light. The little napless patches showing here and 
there, like islands in an ocean, revealed the presence of 
that enemy of the housewife, the clothes-moth. 

" Ah ! here we have something interesting," I ex- 
claimed. " There is no one of all the Lepidoptera whose 
habits better repay study than this little fellow." 

" What a pity," interrupted the mistress, " that so many 
very interesting people and things in this world have the 
misfortune to be such miserable transgressors ! Now, 
here are these little wretches who play such havoc with 
our carpets, furs, and clothes, so attractive in their char- 
acters that you natural philosophers all go off into enthu- 
siasm over them. How do you account for such a seeming 
contradiction ? " 

" I allow that the little fellows are great rogues, and 
suppose it must be Nature's way to reconcile us to their 
mischief by bestowing upon them such cunning habits. 
Besides, what right have we to complain ? We slaughter 
birds and beasts for feathers and furs ; we kill the silk- 
moth to get us a gown, and then think it hard if this poor 
worm makes a few raids for food and clothing upon our 
stolen fineiy ! No, no ! We must be just, at least. 
However, let us look at this rug closely, and I think we 
shall conclude that we have been well repaid for all our 
loss here. 

"These moths belong to a family named Tinea by 
entomologists, such as the tapestry-moth {Tinea tapet- 
zella), the fur-moth {Tinea pellionelUi), cabinet-moth 
{Tinea destructor), and clothes-moth {Tinea vestianella). 
The species which has been at work upon this rug is 
probably Pellionella, the only ' clothes-moth ' known in 
the United States the larva of which constructs a case for 
its occupancy. 

" The moths themselves are very small, expanding their 



STORY OF THE CLOTHES-MOTH 151 

wings not more than eight-tenths of an inch. They are 
thus well fitted for making their way through minute holes 
and chinks. If they cannot find such a tiny avenue into 
wardrobe or bureau, or fail of the opportunity of an open 
drawer or door, they will contrive to glide through the key- 
hole. Once in, it is no easy matter to dislodge them, for 
they are exceedingly agile vermin, and escape out of 
sight in a moment. The mother insect deposits her eggs 
on or near such material as will be best adapted for the 
food of the young, taking care to distribute them so that 
there may be a plentiful supply and enough of room for 
each." 

" Isn't that a bit of pure maliciousness ? " queried the 
mistress. " The mother, I suppose, scatters her eggs so 
that her ravenous caterpillars may do all the damage pos- 
sible by attacking many parts of a garment at the same 
time." 

" That is a bit of pure maternal instinct," I answered. 
" The mother moth wisely arranges that all her offspring 
shall have a fair outset in life — enough to eat and wear. 
When one of this scattered family issues from the egg, its 
first care is to provide itself with a domicile, or, if you 
please, a dress. It belongs to that class of caterpillars 
that feed under cover. I once placed one upon a desk 
covered with green cloth, and set myself to watch it. It 
wandered about for half a day before it began operations. 
At last, having pitched upon a proper site, it cut out a 
filament very near the cloth, in order, I suppose, to have it 
as long as possible, and placed it on a line with its body. 
It then immediately cut another, and placing it parallel 
with the first, bound both together with a few threads of 
its own silk. The same process was repeated with other 
hairs till the little creature had made a fabric of some 
thickness, and this it went on to extend till it was large 
enough to cover its body. Its body, by the way, as is 



152 HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE CLEANING 

usual with caterpillars, is employed as a model and meas- 
ure for regulating its operations." 

" That's a very human trait," said the mistress. " My 
mother invariably used part of her body as a yardstick, 
measuring light material with outstretched arms, or with 
one full-length arm, counting from chin to fingers." 

" Mother Bond does that still," ventured Harry. 

" Ah, well," I said, " perhaps by and by we may find 
some starting-points for a bond of sympathy between the 
ladies and even a clothes-moth ! But to proceed. My 
caterpillar made choice of longer hairs for the outside 
than for the inside, and the covering was at last finished 
within by a fine and closely woven tapestry of silk. I 
could only see the process of its work by looking into the 
opening at either of the ends, for the covering was quite 
opaque and concealed the larva. In weaving this lining, 
the creature turns around by doubling itself and bringing 
its head where the tail had been, the interior being left 
just wide enough for this purpose. 

" Its dress being in this way complete, the body quite 
covered, the larva begins to feed on the material of the 
cloth, which, you see, is its ' bed and board,' and ward- 
robe besides. Soon, like a growing boy, our young Pel- 
lionella outgrows its clothes. As it has no father's or big 
brother's worn suits to furnish material, and no mother 
who has learned the art of Burns's Scotch cotter who l gars 
auld claes look amaist as weeFs the new,' it proceeds to 
enlarge its own garments. It sets to work as dexterously 
as any tailor, slitting the coat or case on the two opposite 
sides, and then adroitly inserting between them two pieces 
of the requisite size. It manages all this so as not to 
expose its body, never slitting the whole length of the 
coat at once." 

" Why," exclaimed Abby, " the worm has learned the 
mystery of a gore ! Here is certainly a fair beginning for 



STORY OF THE CLOTHES-MOTH 153 

that bond of sympathy of which you spoke between the 
clothes-moth and the dressmaking part of womanhood ! " 

" Shall we congratulate the moth or the mantua-maker 
on the connection ? " I asked. 

" Really, I am not quite so sure with an answer as I 
would have been a few moments ago. .My respect for 
the little wretches has vastly increased. I don't know 
how I shall muster courage to kill them hereafter ! " 

"By taking advantage of this peculiar genius for patch- 
ing," I continued, " or for gores, as Abby puts it, clothes- 
moths have been forced to make their tubular coats of 
divers colors and patterns. By shifting the caterpillars 
from one colored cloth to another, the required tints are 
produced, and the pattern is gained by watching the 
creature at work and transferring it at the proper time. 
For example, a half-grown caterpillar may be placed upon 
a piece of bright green cloth. After it lias made its tube, 
it may be shifted to a black cloth, and when it has cut the 
longitudinal slit and has filled it up, it can be transferred 
to a piece of scarlet cloth, so that the complementary 
colors of green and scarlet are brought into juxtaposition 
and ' thrown out ' by the contrast with the black. In 
this way the little worm, by friendly human manipulation, 
may by and by find itself arrayed, like the favorite son of 
Jacob, in 'a coat of many colors.' 

" The moth-worms pass the summer within these silk- 
lined rolls, some carrying them about as the} T move along, 
and others fastening them to the substance they are eat- 
ing. Concealed within these movable cases, or lint-cov- 
ered burrows, they ply their sharp reaping-hooks amid 
the harvest of napery throughout the summer. In the 
fall they cease eating, make fast their habitations, and lie 
torpid during winter. Early in spring they change to 
chrysalids within their cases, and in about twenty days 
thereafter are transformed to winged moths, which fly 



154 HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE CLEANING 

about in the evening until they have paired and are ready 
to lay eggs. 

— Adapted from "Tenants of an Old Farm," by Dr. Henry McCook. 



THE HOUSE-FLY 

I believe we can nowhere find a better type of a per- 
fectly free creature, than in the common house-fly. Nor 
free only, but brave and irreverent to a degree which, I 
think, no human republican could by any philosophy exalt 
himself to. There is no courtesy in him ; he does not care 
whether it is a king or clown whom he teases ; and in 
every step of his swift, mechanical march, and in every 
pause of his resolute observation, there is one and the same 
expression of perfect egotism, perfect independence and 
self-confidence, and conviction of the world's having been 
made for flies. Strike at him with your hand ; and to him, 
the mechanical fact and external aspect of the matter is, 
what to you it would be, if an acre of red clay, ten feet 
thick, tore itself up from the ground in one massive field, 
hovered over you in the air for a second, and came crash- 
ing down with an aim. That is the external aspect of it ; 
the inner aspect, to this fly's mind, is of a quite natural 
and unimportant occurrence — one of the momentary con- 
ditions of his active life. He steps out of the way of your 
hand, and alights on the back of it. You cannot terrify 
him, nor persuade him, nor govern him, nor convince him. 
He has his own positive opinion on all matters ; not an 
unwise one, usually, for his own ends ; and will ask no 
advice of yours. He has no work to do — no tyrannical 
instinct to obey. The earth-worm has his digging, the bee 
her gathering and building, the spider her cunning net- 
work, the ant her treasury and accounts. All these are 
comparatively slaves or people of vulgar business. But 



THE HOUSE-FLY 155 

your fly, free in the air, free in the chamber, — a black 
incarnation of caprice, — wandering, investigating, flitting, 
flirting, feasting at his will, with rich variety of choice in 
feast, from the heaped sweets in the grocer's window to 
those of the butcher's back yard, and from the galled place 
on your cab-horse's back to the brown spot in the road, 
from which, as the hoof disturbs him, he rises with angry 
republican buzz. 

What freedom is like his ? 

— John Ruskin. 



THE HOUSE-FLY 

There are at least five species of flies that are found in 
the house. One of these, a fly closely resembling the 
true house-fly in appearance, but differing from it in that it 
bites, should be called the stable fly. Another is the 
cluster-fly found most frequently in the spring and fall. 
This is darker and rather larger than the true house-fly 
and much less active. Then there is the bluebottle, which 
is also called the blow-fly or meat-fly, because it often 
breeds in meat. And last of all there is the small fly with 
an almost translucent body, which most people believe is a 
baby fly. 

The true house-fly lays its eggs in manure. In a day 
these hatch out into headless maggots that are active for 
about a week. These are then transformed into pupae, in 
which state they rest for another week. The adult, unlike 
most insects, has only a single pair of wings. Its mouth 
is adapted to sucking, and it is said to hear with its feelers. 

It has been found that flies cannot walk on a smooth 
wet surface or one that has been powdered with flour. 
From this we conclude that the almost constant rubbing 
together of the under side of their feet is mainly for the 



156 HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE CLEANING 

purpose of keeping them clean, in order that they may be 
in a fit condition for walking. 

The fly lays about one hundred and twenty eggs, which 
explains why they are so abundant. 

The only remedies against them which can be employed 
by private individuals are screens, fly-papers, cleanliness, 
and living a long distance from any stable. 



THE MOSQUITO 

Fair insect ! that, with threadlike legs spread out, 
And blood-extracting bill and fillip wing, 

Does murmur, as thou slowly sail'st about, 
In pitiless ears full many a plaintive thing, 

And tell how little our large veins would bleed, 

Would we but yield them to thy bitter need. 

Calm rose afar the city spires, and thence 
Came the deep murmur of its throng of men, 

And as its grateful odors met thy sense, 

They seemed the perfumes of thy native fen ; 

Fair lay its crowded streets, and at the sight 

Thy tiny song grew shriller with delight. 

Thou'rt welcome to the town — but why come here 
To bleed a brother poet, gaunt like thee ? 

Alas ! the little blood I have is dear, 

And then will be the banquet drawn from me. 

Look round — the pale-eyed sisters in my cell, 

Thy old acquaintance, Song and Famine, dwell. 

Try some plump alderman, and suck the blood 
Enriched by generous wine and costly meat ; 
On well-filled skins, sleek as thy native mud, 



THE MOSQUITO 157 

Fix thy light pump and press thy freckled feet 
Go to the men for whom, in ocean's halls, 
The oyster breeds, and the green turtle sprawls. 

— William Cullen Bryant. 



THE MOSQUITO 

Although mosquitoes are out-of-door insects, they may 
be considered appropriately under the head of household 
pests, for the reason that they enter houses to torment 
the inhabitants all through the summer months, and many 
of them pass the winter in cellars. In fact, it is probably 
safe to say that no distinctive household pest causes as 
much annoyance as the mosquito. 

We are accustomed to think and speak of the mosquito 
as if there were but one species ; yet, to our knowledge, 
there are no less than eight species, for example, which are 
common in the District of Columbia ; and the writer has 
noticed at New Orleans, Louisiana, certainly four differ- 
ent species at the same season of the year, while at Christ- 
mas time a fifth species, smaller than the others, causes 
considerable trouble in the houses of that city. 

The writer, in the course of certain observations, has 
carried a common American species of the mosquito 
through two generations in the early part of the season. 
The operation of egg-laying was not observed, but it prob- 
ably takes place in the very early morning hours. The 
eggs are laid in the usual boat-shaped mass. We say 
boat-shaped mass because that is the ordinary expression. 
As a matter of fact, however, the egg masses are of all 
sorts of shapes. The most common one is the pointed 
ellipse, convex below and concave above, all the eggs per- 
pendicular in six to thirteen longitudinal rows, with from 
three or four to forty eggs in a row. The number of eggs 



158 HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE CLEANING 

in each batch varies from two hundred to four hundred. 
As seen from above, the egg mass is gray brown ; from 
below, silvery white, the latter appearance being due to 
the air-film. It seems impossible to wet these egg masses. 
They may be pushed under water, but bob up apparently 
as dry as ever. The egg mass separates rather regularly, 
and the eggs are not stuck together very firmly. After 
they have hatched, the mass will disintegrate in a few 
days, even in perfectly still water. 

The individual eggs are slender, broader, and blunt at 
bottom, slenderer and somewhat pointed at top. The tip 
is always dark grayish brown in color, while the rest of 
the egg is dirty white. Repeated observations show that 
the eggs hatch, under advantageous conditions, certainly 
as soon as sixteen hours. Water buckets containing no 
egg masses, placed out at night, were found to contain 
egg masses at eight o'clock in the morning, which, as 
above stated, were probably laid in the early morning, 
before daylight. These eggs, the third week in May, 
began to hatch quite regularly at two o'clock in the after- 
noon of the same day, on warm days. In cooler weather 
they sometimes remained unhatched until the second day. 
The larvae issue from the under side of the egg masses 
and are extremely active at birth. When first observed, 
it is easy to fall into an error regarding the length of 
time which they can remain under water, or rather with- 
out coming to the surface to breathe, since, in striving to 
come to the surface for air, many of them will strike the 
under side of the egg mass and remain there for some 
minutes. It is altogether likely, however, that they get 
air at this point through the eggs or through the air-film 
by which the egg mass is surrounded, and that they are 
as readily drowned by continuous immersions as are the 
older ones, as will be shown later. 

One of the first peculiarities which strikes one in observ- 



THE MOSQUITO 159 

ing these newly hatched larvre under the lens, is that the 
tufts of filaments, which are conspicuous at the mouth, are 
in absolutely constant vibration. This peculiarity, and the 
wriggling of the larvae through the water and their great 
activity, render them interesting objects of study. When 
nearly full grown their movements were studied with 
more care, as they were easier to observe than when 
newly hatched. At this time the larva remains near the 
surface of the water, with its respiratory siphon at the 
exact surface, and its mouth filaments in constant vibra- 
tion, directing food into the mouth cavity. Occasionally 
the larva descends to the bottom ; but, though repeatedly 
timed, a healthy individual was never seen to remain 
voluntarily below the surface more than a minute. In 
ascending, it comes up with an effort, with a series of 
jerks and wrigglings with its tail. It descends without 
effort, but ascends with difficulty. 

After seven or eight days the larva transforms to pupa. 
In this stage the insect is lighter than water. It remains 
motionless at the surface, and when disturbed does not 
sink without effort, as does the larva, but is only able to 
descend by a violent muscular action. It wriggles and 
swims as actively as does the larva, and soon reaches the 
bottom of the jar or breeding place. As soon as it ceases 
to exert itself, however, it floats gradually up to the sur- 
face of the water again. The fact, however, that the 
larva, after it is once below the surface of the water, 
sinks rather than rises, accounts for the death of many 
individuals. If they become sick or weak, or for any 
reason are unable to exert sufficient muscular force to 
Avriggle to the surface at frequent intervals, they will 
actually drown, and the writer has seen many of them die 
in this way. It seems almost like a contradiction in 
terms to speak of an aquatic insect drowning, but this 
is a frequent cause of mortality among wrigglers. This 



160 HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE CLEANING 

fact also explains the efficacy of the remedial treatment 
which causes the surface of the water to become covered 
with a film of oil of any kind. Aside from the actual 
insecticide effect of the oil, the larvse drown from not 
being able to reach the air. 

In general, the adult insects issue from the pupse that 
are two days old. The individuals emerging on the first 
day were invariably males. On the second day the great 
majority were males, but there were also a few females. 
The preponderance of males continued to hold for three 
days ; later the females were in the majority. In con- 
finement, the males died quickly ; several lived for four 
days, but none for more than that period. The females, 
however, lived for a much longer time. Some were kept 
alive without food, in a confined space of not more than 
four inches deep by six across, for three weeks. 

The extreme shortness of this June generation is signifi- 
cant. It accounts for the fact that swarms of mosquitoes 
may develop, upon occasion, in surface pools of rain-water, 
which may dry up entirely in the course of two weeks, or 
in a chance bucket of water left undisturbed for that length 
of time. 

It is a well-known fact that the adult male mosquito 
does not necessarily take nourishment, and that the adult 
female does not necessarily rely upon the blood of warm 
blooded animals. They are plant-feeders, and have also 
been recorded as feeding upon insects. Dr. Hagen men- 
tions taking a species in the Northwest feeding upon the 
chrysalis of a butterfly; while scattered through the seven 
volumes of " Insect Life " are a number of records of ob- 
servations of a vegetarian habit, one writer stating that he 
has seen them with their beaks inserted in boiled potatoes 
on the table, and another that he has seen watermelon rinds 
with many mosquitoes settled upon them, and busily en- 
gaged in sucking the juices. Mosquitoes undoubtedly feed 



THE MOSQUITO 161 

normally on the juices of plants, and not one in a million 
ever gets an opportunity to taste the blood of a warm- 
blooded animal. When we think of the enormous tracts 
of marsh land into which warm-blooded animals never pen- 
etrate, and in which mosquitoes are breeding in countless 
numbers, the truth of this statement becomes apparent. 
The males have been observed sipping at drops of water, 
and one instance of a fondness for molasses has been re- 
corded. Mr. E. A. Schwartz has observed one drinking 
beer. 

The literature of popular entomology is full of instances 
of the enormous numbers in which mosquitoes occasionally 
occur, but a new instance may not be out of place here. 
Mr. Schwartz tells the writer that he has never seen, even 
in New Jersey, mosquitoes to compare with those at Cor- 
pus Christi, Texas. When the wind blows from any other 
direction than south, he says hundreds of thousands of 
millions of mosquitoes blow in upon the town. Great 
herds of hundreds of horses run before the mosquitoes in 
order to get to the water. With a change of wind, how- 
ever, the mosquitoes blow away. 

Remedies in use in houses are the burning of pyre- 
thrum powder and the catching of the mosquitoes on the 
walls with kerosene in cups. Altogether, the most satis- 
factory ways of fighting mosquitoes are those which result 
in the destruction of the larva? or the abolition of their 
breeding places. In not every locality are these measures 
feasible, but in many places there is absolutely no neces- 
sity for the mosquito annoyance. The three main pre- 
ventive measures are the draining of breeding places, the 
introduction of small fish into fishless breeding places, and 
the treatment of such pools with kerosene. These are 
three alternatives, any one of which will be efficacious, 
and any one of which may be used where there are rea- 
sons against the trial of the others. The quantity of 



162 HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE CLEANING 

kerosene to be practically used, as shown by the writer's 
experiments, is approximately one ounce to fifteen square 
feet of Avater surface, and ordinarily the application need 
not be renewed for one month. Since 1892 several dem- 
onstrations on both a large and small scale have been 
made. Tavo localities Avere rid of the mosquito plague 
under the supervision of the writer by the use of kerosene 
alone. 

— Adapted from "The Principal Household Insects of the United 
States," by L. O. Howard and C. L. Marlatt. 



COCKROACHES 

Roaches are among the commonest and most offensive 
of the insects Avhich frequent human habitations. They 
were well known to the ancients, avIio called them lucifuga, 
from their habit of ahvays shunning the light. The com- 
mon English name for them, or, more properly, for the 
common domestic English species, is "black beetle." In 
America this name has not been adopted to any extent for 
this insect, Avhich Avas early introduced here, and the term 
" roach " or " cockroach " is the common name for all the 
domestic species. The little German roach, however, is 
very generally known as the Croton bug, from its early 
association Avith the Croton Avater-Avorks system in New 
York City. The popular designations of this insect in 
Germany illustrate in an amusing Avay both sectional and 
racial prejudices. In north Germany, these roaches are 
known as " Schwaben," a name which applies to the in- 
habitants of south Germany, and the latter section " evens 
up" by calling them " Preussen," after the north Ger- 
mans. In east Germany, they are called " Russen," and in 
Avest Germany " Franzosen." 

The roach is one of the most primitive and ancient 



COCKROACHES 163 

insects, in the sense of its early appearance on the globe, 
fossil remains of roaches occurring in abundance in the 
early coal formations, ages before the more common forms 
of insect life of the present clay had begun to appear. 

The house roaches of to-clay were undoubtedly very 
early associated with man in his primitive dwellings, 
and through the agency of commerce have followed him 
wherever navigation has extended. In fact, on shipboard 
they are always especially numerous and troublesome, 
the moisture and heat of the vessels being particularly 
favorable to their development. 

In houses, roaches are particularly abundant in pantries 
and kitchens, especially in the neighborhood of fireplaces, 
on account of the heat. For the same reason they are 
often abundant in the oven-rooms of bakeries or wherever 
the temperature is maintained above the normal. They 
conceal themselves during the day behind baseboards, 
furniture, or wherever security and partial protection from 
the light are afforded. Their very flat, thin bodies enable 
them to squeeze themselves into small cracks or spaces 
where their presence would not be suspected, and where 
they are out of reach of enemies. Unless routed out by 
the moving of furniture, or disturbed in their hiding- 
places, they are rarely seen, and if so uncovered, make off 
with wonderful celerity, with a scurrying, nervous gait, 
and usually are able to elude all efforts at their capture 
or destruction. It may often happen that their presence, 
at least in the abundance in which they occur, is hardly 
realized by the housekeeper, unless they are surprised in 
their midnight feasts. Coming into a kitchen or pantry 
suddenly, a sound of the rustling of numerous objects will 
come to the ear, and if a light be introduced, often the 
floor or shelves will be seen covered with scurrying roaches, 
hastening to places of concealment. 

The domestic roaches are practically omnivorous, feed- 



164 HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE CLEANING 

ing on almost any dead animal matter, cereal products, 
and food materials of all sorts. They are also said to eat 
their own cast skins and egg cases, and it is supposed 
that they will attack other species of roaches, or are, per- 
haps, occasionally cannibalistic. They will also eat or 
gnaw woollens, leather (as of shoes or furniture), and fre- 
quently are the cause of extensive damage to the cloth 
and leather bindings of books in libraries and publishing 
houses. 

Like the crows among birds, the roaches among insects 
are apparently unusually well endowed with the ability to 
guard themselves against enemies, displaying great intel- 
ligence in keeping out of the way of the irate housekeeper 
and in avoiding food or other substances which have been 
doctored with poisons for their benefit. Their keenness 
in this direction is unquestionably the inheritance of 
many centuries, during which the hand of man has ever 
been raised against them. 

The means against these insects, including always vigi- 
lance and cleanliness as important preventives, are three ; 
namely, destruction by poisons, by fumigation with poison- 
ous gases, and by trapping. 

A common remedy suggested for roaches consists in the 
liberal use of pyrethrum powder, and when this is persisted 
in, considerable relief will be gained. It is not a perfect 
remedy, however, and is at best but a temporary expedient; 
while it has the additional disadvantage of soiling the 
shelves or other objects over which it is dusted. When 
used it should be fresh and liberally applied. Roaches are 
often paralyzed with it, when not killed outright, and the 
morning after an application, the infested premises should 
be gone over, and all the dead or partially paralyzed roaches 
swept up and burned. 

There are many proprietary substances which claim to be 
fairly effective roach poisons. The usefulness of most of 



THE SILVER FISH 165 

these is, however, very problematical, and disappointment 
will ordinarily follow their application. The only one of 
these that has given very satisfactory results is a phospho- 
rous paste, also sold in the form of pills. It probably con- 
sists of sweetened flour paste, containing phosphorus, and 
is spread on bits of paper or cardboard and placed in the run- 
ways of the roaches. It has been used very successfully 
to free desks of Croton bugs, numbers of the dead insects 
being found in the drawers every day during the time the 
poison was kept about. 

Various forms of traps have been very successfully 
employed as a means of collecting and destroying roaches. 
These devices are all so constructed that the roaches may 
easily get into them, and cannot afterward escape. The 
destruction of the roaches is effected either by the liquid 
into which they fall, or by dousing them with hot water. 

Traps placed in pantries or bakeries will unquestionably 
destroy great quantities of roaches, and keep them perhaps 
more effectively in check than the use of the troublesome 
insect powders or the distribution of poisoned bait, espe- 
cially as the latter are so often ineffective. 

— Adapted from "The Principal Household Insects of the United 
States," by L. 0. Howard and C. L. Marlatt. 



THE SILVER FISH 

This insect is often one of the most troublesome enemies 
of books, papers, card labels in museums, and starched 
clothing, and occasionally stored food substances. Its 
peculiar fishlike form and scaly, glistening body, together 
with its very rapid movements and active efforts at conceal- 
ment whenever it is uncovered, have attached considerable 
popular interest to it, and have resulted in its receiving a 
number of more or less descriptive popular names, such as 



166 HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE CLEANING 

silver fish, silver louse, silver witch, sugar fish, etc. This 
insect is a common one in England, but also occurs in this 
country, and, like most other domestic insects, is now prac- 
tically cosmopolitan. It has a number of near allies, both 
in appearance and habits. One of these has certain pecu- 
liarities of habit which will be referred to later. The 
peculiar appearance of the common silver fish early drew 
attention to it, and a fairly accurate description of it, given 
in a little work published in London, in 1665, by the Royal 
Society, is interesting enough to reproduce : — 

" It is a small, silvery, shining worm, or moth, which I 
found much conversant among books and papers, and is 
supposed to be that which corrodes and eats holes through 
the leaves and covers. It appears to the naked eye a small, 
glittering, pearl-colored moth, which, upon removing of 
books and papers in the summer, is often observed very 
nimbly to scud and pack away to some lurking cranny, 
where it may better protect itself from any appearing dan- 
gers. Its head appears big and blunt, and its body tapers 
from it toward the tail, smaller and smaller, being shaped 
almost like a carrot. 

" On account of its always shunning the light, and its 
ability to run very rapidly to places of concealment, it is 
not often seen, and is most difficult to capture, and being 
clothed with smooth, glistening scales, it will slip from 
between the fingers, and is almost impossible to secure with- 
out crushing or damaging. It is one of the most serious 
pests in libraries, particularly to the binding of books, and 
will frequently eat off the gold lettering to get at the paste 
beneath, or, as reported by Mr. P. R. Uhler, of Baltimore, 
often gnaws off white slips glued on the backs of books. 
Heavily glazed paper seems very attractive to this insect, 
and it has frequently happened that the labels in museum 
collections have been disfigured or destroyed by it, the 
glazed surface having been entirely eaten off. In some 



THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH 167 

cases, books printed on heavily sized paper will have the 
surface of the leaves a good deal scraped, leaving only the 
portions covered by the ink. It will also eat any starched 
clothing, linen, or curtains, and has been known to do very 
serious damage to silks, which had probably been stiffened 
with sizing. Its damage in houses, in addition to its in- 
jury to books, consists in causing the wall-paper to scale 
off by its feeding on the starch paste. It occasionally 
gets into vegetable drugs, or similar material left undis- 
turbed for long periods. It is reported also to eat, occa- 
sionally, into carpets and plush-covered furniture, but this 
is open to question. 

" The silver fish belongs to the lowest order of insects, is 
wingless, and of very simple structure. It is a wormlikc 
insect about one-third of an inch in length, tapering from 
near the head to the extremity of the body. The head 
carries two prominent antenna?, and at the tip of the body 
are three long, bristle-shaped appendages, one pointing 
directly backward, and the other two extending out at a 
considerable angle. The entire surface of the body is cov- 
ered with very minute scales, like those of a moth. Six 
legs spring from the thorax, and while not very long, 
they are powerful and enable the insect to run with great 
rapidity." 

— From "The Principal Household Insects of the United States," by 
L. 0. Howard and C. L. Marlatt. 



THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH 

The kettle began it! Don't tell me what Mrs. Peery- 
bingle said. I know better. Mrs. Peerybingle may leave 
it on record to the end of time that she couldn't say which 
of them began it, but I say the kettle did : I ought to know, 
I hope ? The kettle began it, full five minutes by the 



1G8 HOUSEHOLD PESTS AND HOUSE CLEANING 

little waxy-faced Dutch clock in the corner, before the 
cricket uttered a chirp. 

And here, if you like, the cricket did chime in with a 
chirrup, chirrup, chirrup ! of such magnitude, by way of 
chorus ; with a voice so astoundingly disproportionate to 
its size, as compared with the kettle (size ! you couldn't see 
it !), that if it had then and there burst itself like an over- 
charged gun ; if it had fallen a victim on the spot, and 
chirruped its little body into fifty pieces, it would have 
seemed a natural and inevitable consequence, for which it 
had expressly labored. 

The kettle had had the last of its solo performances. It 
persevered with undiminished ardor ; but the cricket took 
first fiddle and kept it. Good Heaven, how it chirped ! 
Its shrill, sharp, piercing voice resounded through the 
house, and seemed to twinkle in the outer darkness like a 
star. There was an indescribable little trill and tremble 
in it, at its loudest, which suggested its being carried off 
its legs, and made to leap again, by its own intense enthu- 
siasm. Yet they went very well together, the cricket and 
the kettle. The burden of the song was still the same ; 
and louder, louder, louder still, they sang it in their emu- 
lation. 

There was all the excitement of a race about it. 
Chirp, chirp, chirp ! Cricket, a mile ahead. Hum, hum, 
hum-m-m ! Kettle making play in the distance like a 
great top. Chirp, chirp, chirp ! — Cricket round the 
corner. Hum, hum, hum-m-m. Kettle sticking to him in 
his own way ; no idea of giving in. Chirp, chirp, chirp! 
Cricket fresher than ever. Hum, hum, hum-m-m. Kettle 
slow and steady. Chirp, chirp, chirp ! Cricket going in to 
finish him. Hum, hum, hum-m-m ! Kettle not to be fin- 
ished. Until at last, they got so jumbled together in the 
hurry-skurry, helter-skelter, of the match, that whether 
the kettle chirped and the cricket hummed, or the cricket 



THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH 169 

chirped and the kettle hummed, or they both chirped and 
both hummed, it would have taken a clearer head than 
yours or mine to have decided with anything like certainty. 
But of this there is no doubt : that the kettle and the 
cricket, at one and the same moment, and by some power 
of amalgamation best known to themselves, sent each his 
fireside song of comfort streaming into a ray of the candle 
that shone out through the window, and a long way 
down the lane. And this light, bursting on a certain per- 
son who on the instant approached toward it through the 
gloom, expressed the whole thing to him, literally in a twin- 
kling, and cried: " Welcome home, old fellow ! Welcome 
home, my boy." 

— From " The Cricket cm the Hearth," by Charles Dickens. 



SEWING 



SEWING 



NEEDLES 

In the Lebanon, high up among the defiles and rocky 
platforms, which succeed each other till the celebrated 
cedars are reached, there is a village nestling among mul- 
berry groves and orchards, called Eden, and believed by 
many people in the East to be the real first home of Adam 
and Eve. We did not, when we were there, see anybody 
sewing fig leaves together ; but we mention that place, 
not only because it is a widespread belief that the first 
sewing ever done was done there, but because we had, a 
little while before going there, seen a piece of sewing of 
extremely old date. The work that we saw was a piece 
of darning, with the threaded needle still sticking in it, 
after the lapse of several thousand years. The old Egyp- 
tians had a custom of burying, in their handsome, roomy 
rock tombs, specimens of the works and possessions of the 
deceased; and the cotton fabric that we saw, with the 
pretty unfinished darn (more like herring-bone stitch 
than our ordinary darning) and the needle sticking in it, 
was, no doubt, the property and handiwork of the lady in 
whose tomb it was found. It may be seen in Dr. Abbott's 
collection of curiosities at Cairo. Those old Egyptians 
seemed to have known the use of steel. They used it for 
armor, but not, we suppose, for needles ; for this needle 
— the one remaining needle from the world of over five 
thousand years ago — is of wood. The wood is hard, and 

173 



174 SEWING 

the needle is made as small, probably, as it can be, but it is 
sadly clumsy. It is a curious thing, to glance back 
through all those thousands of years, to the Egyptian 
lady, sitting in her elegant chair, mending her muslin 
garment (whatever it might be), while surrounded by her 
children, one of whom was playing with her doll (still in 
mummified existence), with a face and hair uncommonly 
like the Sphinx, and another, a baby, handling — not a 
woolly bow-wow dog, like those that yelp in our nurseries 
— but a little snapping crocodile, of wood, with a loose 
under jaw. And then — what a long step it is over space 
and time ! — to the place where we have seen another 
sort of needle, with its thread, — the green shores of Mack- 
inaw, in Lake Michigan, where, in some of the long row 
of wigwams, there are, at this day, Indian women sewing 
with a needle of stout porcupine quill and thread of the 
sinews of the deer. 

Again, among those that we have not seen, there are the 
fish bones that the Greenlanders and the South Sea 
Islanders use : the women of the one race sitting in their 
snow burrow, stitching by the light of their oil lamps ; 
and the women of the other race wearing while at work a 
great palm-leaf on their heads for shade, and cooling 
themselves occasionally by a swim in the calm water within 
the coral reefs. 

— Adapted from "Littell's Living Age." 



PINS 

When pins were first invented and brought into use, 
about the beginning of the sixteenth century, they were 
a New Year's gift very acceptable to ladies, and money 
given for the purchase of them was called "pin money." 
Pins made of metal in their present form must have been 



THE COTTON-PLANT 175 

made some time previous to 1543, in which year a statute 
was passed, entitled, "An Acte for the true making of 
Py nnes," in which it was enacted that the price charged 
should not exceed $1.75 a thousand. Pins were pre- 
viously made of boxwood, bone, and silver for the richer 
classes ; those used by the poor were of common wood — 
in fact, skewers. 
— Adapted from " New Year's Gifts," in Chambers's " Book of Days." 



THE COTTON-PLANT 

The cotton-plant is an annual, which shoots above 
ground in about a fortnight after sowing, and Avhich, as 
it grows, throws out flower-stalks, at the end of each of 
which develops a pod with fringed calyces. From this 
pod emerges a flower, which, in some varieties, will 
change its color from day to day. The complete bloom 
flourishes for about twenty-four hours, at the end of 
which time the flower twists itself off, leaving a pod or 
boll, which grows to the size of a large filbert, browns 
and hardens like a nut, and then bursts, revealing the 
fibre or wool encased in three or four cells within. This 
fibre or wool is the covering of the seeds, and in each cell 
will be as many separate fleeces as seeds, yet apparently 
forming one fleece. 

Upon the characteristics of this fleece depends the com- 
mercial value of the fibre. The essential qualities of good 
and mature cotton are thus enumerated by an expert : 
"Length of fibre, smallness or fineness in diameter; 
evenness or smoothness ; elasticity ; tensile strength and 
color ; hollowness or tubelike construction ; natural 
twist; corrugated edges, and moisture." The fibre of 
Indian cotton is only about five-eighths of an inch long ; 
that of Sea Island about two inches. Then the latter 



176 SEWING 

is of a sort of creamy white color ; and some kinds of 
Egyptian cotton are not white at all, but golden in hue, 
while others are snow-white. 

Cotton is largely produced in the " cotton belt " of the 
United States, an area stretching for about two thousand 
miles between its extreme points in the Southern states. 
Over this area soil and climate vary considerably. The 
cotton belt lies, roughly speaking, between the thirtieth 
and fortieth parallels of north latitude. As an expert 
says : " Cotton can be produced with various degrees of 
profit throughout the region bounded on the north by a 
line passing through Philadelphia ; on the south by a line 
passing a little south of New Orleans ; and on the west 
by a line passing through San Antonio. This is the 
limit of the possibilities." 

The cotton-plant likes a light, sandy soil, or a black, 
alluvial soil, like that of the Mississippi margins. It 
requires both heat and moisture in due proportions, and 
is sensitive to cold, to drought, and to excessive moisture. 
The southern cotton -fields are still worked by negroes, 
but no longer slaves, as before the war ; and in fact the 
negroes are now not only free, but some of them are con- 
siderable cotton-growers on their own account. On the 
other hand, one finds but little nowadays of the old 
system of spacious plantations under one ownership. 
Instead, the cultivation is carried on mainly on small 
farms or allotments, not owned but rented by the 
cultivators. 

The cotton agent is the go-between of the grower 
and the exporting agent in Galveston or New Orleans, 
or other centre of business. After the crop is picked by 
the negroes, — men, women, and children, — and the har- 
vest is a long process, — the seeds are separated from the 
fibre by means of a " cotton-gin," and then the cotton 
is packed into .loose bales for the agent, while the 



THE ROMANCE OF COTTON 177 

seeds are sent to a mill to be crushed for cotton-seed oil 
and oil-cake, for cattle feeding. The loose cotton-bales 
are collected by the agent into some such central town as 
Memphis, where they are sorted, sampled, graded, and then 
compressed by machinery into bales of about four hundred 
pounds each. The cotton then passes into the hands of 
the shipping agent, who brands it and forwards it by river 
steamer to one of the southern ports, or by rail to New 
York or Boston. 

— Adapted from " Chambers's Journal." 



THE ROMANCE OF COTTON 

The Father of History, in writing about India, made 
the following remarkable statement: — 

" They possess," he said, " a kind of plant, which, in- 
stead of fruit, produces wool of a finer and better quality 
than that of the sheep, and of this the natives make their 
clothes." This was the vegetable wool of the ancients, 
which many learned authorities have identified with bys- 
sus, in bandages of cloth made from which the old Egyp- 
tians wrapped their mummies. But did Egypt receive 
the cotton plant from India, or India from Egypt, and 
when ? However that may be, there is good reason to 
believe that cotton is the basis of one of the oldest indus- 
tries in the world, although we are accustomed to think 
of it as quite modern, and at any rate is practically un- 
known in Europe before the last century. As a matter of 
fact, nevertheless, cotton was being cultivated in the south 
of Europe in the thirteenth century, although whether the 
fibre was then used for the making of cloth is not so cer- 
tain. Its chief use then seems to have been in the manu- 
facture of paper. 

The beginning of the Oriental fable of the vegetable 



178 SEWING 

lamb is lost in the dateless night of the centuries. When 
and how it originated we know not ; but the story of a 
plant-animal in western Asia descended through the ages, 
and passed from traveller to traveller, from historian to 
historian, until in our time the fable has received a prac- 
tical verification. Many strange things were gravely 
recorded of this plant-animal: as, that it was a tree bear- 
ing seed-pods, which, bursting when ripe, disclosed within 
little lambs with soft white fleeces, which the Scythians 
used for weaving into clothing. Or, that it was a real 
flesh-and-blood lamb, growing upon a short stem, flexible 
enough to allow the lamb to feed upon the surrounding 
grass. 

There were many versions of the marvellous tale as it 
reached Europe. One traveller vouched for the flesh-and- 
blood lamb growing out of a plant, and declared that he 
had both seen and eaten it — whereby he proved himself a 
somewhat greater romancer than usual. Nevertheless, he 
has a germ of truth amid his lies, for he relates of " Bucha- 
ria " that in the land are " trees that bear wool, as though 
it were of sheep, whereof men make clothes and all things 
that are made of wool." And again, of the mysterious 
kingdom of Abyssinia, he related: "In that country and 
in many others beyond, and also in many on this side, men 
sow the seeds of cotton, and they sow it every year ; and 
then it grows into small trees which bear cotton. And so 
do men every year, so that there is plenty of cotton at all 
times." Here, then, we have evidence that, eighteen cen- 
turies after Herodotus, cotton was still being cultivated, 
as the basis of a textile industry, both in western Asia 
and in Africa. It is said that in the sacred books of 
India there is clear evidence that cotton was in use for 
clothing purposes eight centuries before Christ. 

The expedition of Alexander the Great from Persia into 
the Punjab was a .good deal later, about three hundred 



THE ROMANCE OF COTTON 179 

and thirty years before Christ. On the retreat down the 
Indus, Admiral Neorchus remarks "trees bearing, as it 
were, flocks or bunches of wool," of which the natives 
made "garments of surpassing whiteness, or else their 
black complexions made the material seem whiter than 
any other." 

At the beginning of the Christian era, we find cotton 
in cultivation and in use in Persia, Arabia, and Egypt, 
but whether native to these countries, or carried west- 
ward during the centuries from India, we know not. 
Thereafter, the westward spread was slow ; but the plant 
can be traced along the north coast of Africa to Morocco. 
The Moors took the plant or seeds to Spain, and it was 
being grown on the plains of Valencia in the tenth cen- 
tury; and by the thirteenth century it was, as we have 
said, growing in various parts of southern Europe. 

Yet although the Indian cloths were known to the 
Greeks and Romans a century or two before the Chris- 
tian era, and although in the early centuries Arab traders 
brought to the Red Sea ports Indian calicoes, which were 
distributed in Europe, we find cotton known in England 
only as material for candle-wicks down to the seventeenth 
century. The first mention of cotton being manufactured 
in England is in 1641; and the "English cottons," of 
which earlier mention may be found, were really woollens. 

And now we come to a very curious thing in the 
romance of cotton. Columbus discovered America in 
1492 ; and when he reached the islands of the Caribbean 
Sea, the natives who came off to barter with him brought, 
among other things, cotton yarn and thread. Vasco da 
Gama, in 1497, rounded the Cape of Good Hope and 
reached the Zanzibar coast. There the natives were found 
to be clothed in cotton, just as Columbus found the natives 
of Cuba to be, as Pizarro found the Peruvians, and as 
Cortes found the Mexicans. These Europeans, proceed- 



180 SEWING 

ing from the Iberian peninsula east and west, found the 
peoples of the new worlds clothed in a material of which 
they knew nothing. Cotton was king in America, as 
in Asia, before it began even to be known in western 
Europe. It is curious that when Africa was discovered 
by Europeans, the Dark Continent was actually produc- 
ing both the fibre, and the cloth for which African labor 
and English skill were afterward to be needed. The cot- 
ton plantations of southern America were worked by the 
negroes of Africa, in order that the cotton mills of Lanca- 
shire might be kept running. And yet both Africa and 
America made cotton cloth from the vegetable wool long 
before England knew of it otherwise than as a traveller's 
wonder. 

Even in Asia, the natural habitat of the cotton-plant, 
the story has been curious. Thus, cotton has been in use 
for clothing for three thousand years in India, and India 
borders upon the ancient and extensive Empire of China. 
Yet cotton was not used in China for cloth making until 
the coming of the Tartars, and has been cultivated and 
manufactured there for only about five hundred years. 
This was because of the " vested interests " in wool and 
silk, which combined to keep out the vegetable wool from 
general use. _ Adapted j rom „ Chambers's Journal." 



THE SILKWORM 

Silkworms proceed from eggs which are deposited 
during the summer by a white moth. These eggs are 
about equal in size to a grain of mustard seed ; their color 
when first laid is yellow ; but in three or four days after, 
they acquire a bluish cast. In temperate climates, and 
by using proper precautions, these eggs may be preserved 
during the winter and spring. The period of their hatch- 



THE SILKWORM 181 

ing may be hastened or retarded by artificial means, so as to 
ao-ree with the time when the natural food of the insect 

o 

shall appear in ample abundance for its support. 

All the curious changes and labors which accompany 
and characterize the life of the silkworm are performed 
within the space of a very few wrecks. The three suc- 
cessive states of being put on by this insect are, that of 
the worm or caterpillar, of the cocoon, and moth. In 
addition to these more decided transformations, the prog- 
ress of the silkworm in its caterpillar state is marked by 
five distinct stages of being. 

When first hatched, it appears as a small, black worm, 
about a quarter of an inch in length. Its first indication 
of life is the desire which it shows for obtaining food, in 
search of which, if not immediately supplied, it will show 
more power of motion than at any other period. So small 
is the desire of change on the part of these insects, that 
of the most of them it may be said, their own free will 
seldom leads them to travel over a greater space than 
three feet throughout the whole length of their lives. 
Even when hungry, the worm still clings to the skeleton 
of the leaf from which its food was last taken. It will 
sometimes wander as far as the edge of the tray wherein 
it is confined, and some few have been found sufficiently 
venturesome to cling to its rim ; but the smell of fresh 
leaves will instantly bring them back. It would add 
greatly to the labors and cares of their attendants if silk- 
Avorms had a more rambling disposition. 

The silkworm increases its size so greatly, and in so 
short a space of time, — its weight being multiplied many 
thousand-fold in the course of one month, — that if only 
one skin had been given to it, which should serve for its 
whole caterpillar state, it would with difficulty have dis- 
tended itself sufficiently to keep pace with the insect's 
growth. 



182 SEWING 

At the end of the first week it refuses food, and three 
days after begins to cast off its skin. To facilitate this 
moulting, a fluid is thrown off by the worm, which, 
spreading between its body and the skin about to be 
abandoned, moistens their surfaces, and causes them to 
separate the more readily. The insect also sends out silk 
from its body, which, sticking to the spot where it rests, 
serves to keep the skin to its position. These steps seem to 
call for some considerable work, as after them the worm 
remains quiet for a short space of time, to recover from its 
fatigue. It then proceeds, by rubbing its head among the 
leafy fibres surrounding it, to remove itself from the scaly 
covering. Its next effort is to break through the skin 
nearest to the head, which, as it is there the smallest, calls 
for the greatest effort, and no sooner is this accomplished 
and the two front legs disengaged, than the remainder of 
the body is quickly drawn forth, the skin being still 
fastened to the spot in the manner already described. 

This moulting is so complete that not only is the whole 
covering of the body cast off, but that of the feet, the 
entire skull, and even the jaws, including the teeth. 

In two or three minutes from the beginning of its 
efforts, the worm is wholly freed, and again puts on the 
appearance of health and vigor ; feeding with renewed 
appetite upon its leafy banquet. 

After four such moultings, the silkworm attains its 
full growth, and is a slender caterpillar, from two and a 
half to three inches in length. At the period above men- 
tioned, the desire of the worm for food begins to decrease ; 
the first symptom of this is the appearance of the leaves 
nibbled into small portions and wasted. Soon it does not 
even touch the leaves ; it appears restless and uneasy, 
erects its head, and moves about from side to side with a 
circular motion, looking for a place wherein it can com- 
mence its labor of spinning. Its color is now light green 



THE SILKWORM 183 

with some mixture of a darker hue. In twenty-four 
hours from the time it stops eating, the material for form- 
ing silk will be digested in its glands ; its green color 
will disappear ; its body will have become glossy and 
partially transparent toward its neck. Before the worm 
is quite prepared to spin, its body will have greater firm- 
ness and be a little lessened in size. 

When the worm has fixed upon some angle or hollow 
place whose size agrees with the size of its intended silken 
ball or cocoon, it begins its labor by throwing forth thin 
and irregular threads. During the first day, the insect 
forms upon these a loose structure of an oval shape, which 
is called floss silk, and within which covering, in the three 
following days, it forms the firm yellow ball ; the laborer, 
of course, always remaining on the inside of the sphere 
which it is forming. 

At the end of the third or fourth day, the worm will 
have completed its task ; and we have then a silk cocoon, 
with the worm imprisoned in its centre ; the cocoon being 
from an inch to an inch and a half long, and of a yellow 
or orange color. 

When the insect has finished its labor of unwinding, it 
smears the entire internal surface of the cocoon with a 
peculiar kind of gum, very similar in its nature to the 
matter which forms the silk itself ; and this, no doubt, 
acts as a shield against rain or the humidity of the atmos- 
phere for the chrysalis in its natural state, when, of 
course, it would be subject to all varieties of weather. 
The silken filament, of which the ball is made up, is like- 
wise accompanied throughout its entire length by a por- 
tion of gum, which serves to give firmness and consistency 
to its texture, and assists in rendering the dwelling of the 
chrysalis impervious to moisture. This office it performs 
so well that when, for the purpose of reeling the silk 
with greater ease, the balls are thrown into basins of 



184 SEWING 

hot water, they swim on the top with all the buoyancy of 
bladders. 

When the ball is finished, the insect rests awhile from 
its toil, and then throws off its caterpillar skin. If the 
cocoon be now opened, its inhabitant will appear in the 
form of a pupa, in shape somewhat resembling a kidney- 
bean, but pointed at one end, having a smooth brown 
skin. Its former covering will be found lying beside it, 
— Adapted from u The History of Silk, Cotton, Linen," etc. 



THE FLAX 

The flax had just opened its pretty little blue flowers, 
as delicate as the wings of a moth. The sun shone, and 
the rain watered it. This was just as good for the flax 
as it is for little children to be washed and then kissed by 
their mother. They look much prettier for it, and so did 
the flax. 

One day some people came who took hold of the plant 
and pulled it up by the roots. This was painful. Then 
they laid it in water, as if they intended to drown it ; and, 
after that, placed it near a fire, as if it were to be roasted. 
" We cannot expect to be happy always," said the Flax. 
"By experiencing evil, as well as good, we become wise." 
And certainly there was plenty of evil in store for the 
flax. It was steeped, and roasted, and broken, and 
combed. At last it was put on a spinning-wheel. 
" Whirr, whirr," went the wheel, so quickly that the 
flax could not collect its thoughts. " Well, I have been 
very happy," he thought in his pain, " and must be con- 
tented with the past." And contented he remained until 
he was put on a loom, and became a beautiful piece of 
white linen. 

" How wonderful it is that, after all I have suffered, I 



THE FLAX 185 

am made something of at last. I am the luckiest person 
in the world — so strong and fine ; and how white, and 
what a length ! This is better than being a mere plant 
and bearing flowers. Then I had no attention, nor any 
water unless it rained. -Now I am watched and taken 
care of. Every' morning I am turned over, and I have 
a shower-bath from the watering-pot every evening. 
Yes, and the clergyman's wife, noticed me, and said I was 
the best piece of linen in the whole parish. I cannot be 
happier than I am now." 

After some time the linen was taken into the house, 
placed under the scissors, and cut and torn into pieces, 
and then pricked with needles. At last it was made into 
garments which everybody wears. 

" See, now, then," said the Flax, " I have become some- 
thing of importance. This was my destiny ; it is quite 
a blessing. Now I shall be of some use in the world. I 
am now divided into twelve pieces, and yet we are all one 
and the same in the whole dozen. It is most extraordi- 
nary good fortune." 

Years passed away ; and at last the linen was so worn 
it could scarcely hold together. 

" It must end very soon," said the pieces to each other ; 
" we would gladly have held together a little longer, but 
it is useless to expect impossibilities." And at length they 
fell into rags and tatters. They were then torn to shreds, 
and steeped in water, and made into a pulp and dried, and 
they knew not what besides, till all at once they found 
themselves beautiful white paper. 

" Well, now, this is a surprise, a glorious surprise, too," 
said the Paper. " I am now finer than ever, and I shall be 
written upon, and who can tell what fine things I may 
have written upon me. This is wonderful luck." And 
sure enough the most beautiful stories and poetry were 
written upon it, and only once was there a blot, which was 



186 SEWING 

very fortunate. Then people heard the stories and poetry 
read, and it made them wiser and better ; for all that was 
written had a good and sensible meaning, and a great 
blessing was contained in the words on the paper. 

" I never imagined anything like this," said the Paper, 
" when I was only a little blue flower growing in the fields. 
How could I fancy that I should ever be the means of 
bringing knowledge and joy to men ? I cannot under- 
stand it myself, and yet it is really so. Heaven knows 
that I have done nothing myself but what I was obliged 
to do with my weak powers, for my own preservation ; and 
yet I have been promoted from one joy and honor to another. 
Each time I think that the song is ended, and then some- 
thing higher and better begins for me. I suppose now I 
shall be sent on my travels about the world, so that people 
may read me. It cannot be otherwise ; indeed, it is more 
than probable ; for I have more splendid thoughts written 
upon me than I had pretty flowers in olden times. I am 
happier than ever." 

But the paper did not go on its travels ; it was sent 
to the printer, and all the words written upon it were 
set up in type, to make a book, or rather many hundreds 
of books ; for so many more persons could get pleasure 
and profit from a printed book than from written paper ; 
and if the paper had been sent out into the world, it 
would have been worn out before it had got half through 
its journey. 

" This is certainly the wisest plan," said the written 
Paper ; "I really did not think of that. I shall remain 
at home and be held in honor, like some old grandfather, 
as I really am to all these new books. They will do some 
good. I could not have wandered about as they do. Yet 
he who wrote all this has looked at me, as every word 
flowed from his pen upon my surface. I am the most 
honored of all." 



THE FLAX 187 

Then the paper was tied in a bundle with other papers, 
and thrown into a tub that stood in the wash-house. 

"After work, it is well to rest," said the Paper ; "and 
a very good opportunity to collect one's thoughts. Now 
I am able, for the first time, to think of my real condition, 
and to know one's self is true progress. What will be 
done with me now, I wonder ? No doubt I shall still go 
forward. I have always progressed hitherto, as I know 
quite well." 

Now it happened one day that all the paper in the tub 
was taken out and laid on the hearth to be burnt. People 
said it could not be sold at the shop to wrap up butter and 
sugar because it had been written upon. The children 
in the house stood round the stove, for they wanted to see 
the paper burn, because it flamed up so prettily, and after- 
ward, among the ashes, so many red sparks could be seen 
running one after the other, here and there, as quick as 
the wind. They called it seeing the children come out of 
school, and the last spark was the schoolmaster. They 
often thought the last spark had come, and one would cry, 
" There goes the schoolmaster " ; but the next moment 
another spark would appear, shining so beautifully. How 
they would like to know where the sparks all went to ! 
Perhaps we shall find out some day, but we don't know 
now. 

The whole bundle of paper had been placed on the fire, 
and was soon alight. " Ugh ! " cried the Paper, as it 
burst into a bright flame ; " ugh ! " It was certainly 
not very pleasant to be burning; but when the whole 
was wrapped in flames, the flames mounted up into the 
, air, higher than the flax had ever been able to raise its 
little blue flower, and they glistened as the white linen 
never could have glistened. All the written letters became 
quite red in a moment, and all the words and thoughts 
turned to fire. 



188 SEWING 

" Now I am mounting straight up to the sun," said a 
voice in the flames ; and it was as if a thousand voices 
echoed the words, and the flames darted up through the 
chimney, and went out at the top. Then a number of 
tiny beings, as many in number as the flowers on the flax 
had been, and invisible to mortal eyes, floated aboi^e them. 
They were even lighter and more delicate than the flowers 
from which they were born ; and as the flames were extin- 
guished, and nothing remained of the paper but black 
ashes, these little beings danced upon it ; and whenever 
they touched it, bright red sparks appeared. 

" The children are all out of school, and the school- 
master was the last of all," said the children. It was good 
fun, and they sang over the dead ashes : — 

" Snip, snap, snurre, 
Basse lurre ; 
The song is ended." 

But the little invisible beings said : " The song is never 
ended ; the most beautiful is yet to come." 

But the children could neither hear nor understand 
this, nor should they ; for children must not know every- 
thing. 

— Adapted from Hans C. Andersen. 



TRUE STORY OF THE SEWING-MACHINE 

In the first half of the nineteenth century there were 
three minds trying to work out the idea of sewing by 
machine. One of these inventors lived in England, 
another in France, and the third in America. The 
Frenchman perfected his idea, brought it into practice, 
showed how the work might be done, and then, having 
taught the lesson, died, and left others to profit by his 
toil. The Englishman grasped the idea and was slowly 



TRUE STORY OF THE SEWING-MACHINE 189 

working it out. But lie stopped when the end was almost 
gained, and rested content with an imperfect machine. 
The American perceived the want, set about to supply it, 
rapidly and accurately perfected his idea, and with in- 
domitable perseverance carried it through, and gave the 
world a new invention. The ingenuity of the Frenchman, 
the painstaking labor of the Englishman, each by itself had 
not been enough. A share of both in the American mind, 
aided by the vigor and energy proper to a new country, 
succeeded. Let us try to obtain some notion of these 
three men and their labors. 

In 1793 was born one Barthelemy Thimonier. He 
was the son of a working tailor, and later followed his 
father's trade, but not successfully. His work was not 
very well done, and so employment fell off. The reason 
for this idleness was that all his mind was given to one 
idea. 

In his trade it was the custom to give out work to the 
country girls round about, who took it home, and brought 
it back when it was finished. Perhaps with the queer 
cracked tailor these sempstresses were rather unruly. At 
any rate, the trouble that they gave him made him wish 
that sewing could be done by means more tractable. From 
the wish he got to thinking of the means by which it 
might be done, and at last he convinced himself that it 
was quite possible. So he went about thinking always 
how to make iron and steel perform the work done before 
by human fingers. When he ought to have been cutting 
out a blouse, or putting a patch on a pair of trousers, he 
was shaping odd-looking bits of wood with his knife, or 
trying some experiment with an old crochet-needle and a 
reel of thread. Masters sent him away, and told him to 
come back with his machine when it Avas finished. Wise 
friends shook their heads, and thought that no good would 
come of such idle goings on. For all this the poor tailor 



190 SEWING 

could do nothing. Whatever money he could get he 
lavished on the object of his affections, the strange engine 
with clumsy wooden works. This he kept in a corner of 
his garret, working on it every moment that he could. 
At last, after four years, the machine was really finished, 
and Thimonier managed by its aid to sew two pieces of 
cloth together. The gossips were astonished. So really, 
there had been something in the mad tailor and his sew- 
ing-engine, after all ! They crowded the before lonely 
garret, watched the machine slowly and laboriously — so 
we would say — doing the work that had before taken so 
many nimble fingers to accomplish. 

One day, there came to his shop an engineer, who at 
once perceived what Thimonier had scarcely thought of 
— its vast capabilities. A patent Avas soon obtained, and, 
not long after, the engineer and the inventor started as a 
firm which was to work the machines and carry on by 
means of them a large tailoring business. The work flour- 
ished, and the poor tailor saw his machine returning to 
him tenfold the money and toil that he had spent upon it. 
At last, in 1841, eighty machines were at work on army 
clothing. But those were troublous times. A band of 
workmen smashed the machines, which they felt were tak- 
ing bread from their mouths, and Thimonier had to fly for 
his very life. 

Once more he set up a factory, but his machines were 
again destroyed by workmen. 

At last he died a pauper. 

The machine on which he had spent so much labor 
worked a chain stitch with a single thread. The needle 
was hooked. It made about two hundred stitches a 
minute. 

So much for the earliest inventor who really made a 
sewing-machine that would work. We may now go back 
to that great country which has done as much for machin- 



TRUE STORY OF THE SEWING-MACHINE 191 

ery in her century of life as the Old World in all her 
ages. With most people Elias Howe has the credit of 
being the very first maker of any sewing-machine. At 
any rate, he it was who made the first lock-stitch ma- 
chine. It was in 1839 that the idea of a sewing-machine 
was first suggested to Howe. Two men were showing 
the model of a knitting-machine to an instrument-maker 
in his shop in Boston. "Why do you not make your 
machine sew?" asked he. "Sew!" answered they. "Any 
one who could do that would make a fortune ! " This set 
the young man behind the counter thinking. His name 
was Elias Howe. He was the son of a poor miller. 
Brought up among machinery, he had from the beginning 
a mechanical genius. And because of this he had sought 
employment with the instrument-maker, after making a 
failure of farming. But he was not successful in this em- 
ployment either. He was apparently lazy, but he had the 
faculty of seizing hold of an idea, turning it over and 
over in his mind, putting all of his thought on it, until 
at last something came of it. This is what he did with 
the idea of the sewing-machine. 

He thought about it for four years before he finally 
began to work it out practically. In a little more than 
a year after this he had made a rude machine that 
would sew. 

The idea was finished, but to perfect it required money. 
It was all Howe could do to support his family. But he 
was fortunate enough to find a man who had lately come 
into some money and was willing to risk it on the 
machine. 

He supported Howe and his family till a perfect model 
could be finished. In 1845 this was done. Two suits of 
clothes were made, one of which was worn by Howe and 
the other by his good friend. 

Still fortune seemed as far off as ever. The tailors 



192 SEWING 

would not have it. It would throw them out of work, 
they said, and at any rate, they did not believe that it 
could sew. 

Howe hired a big room, and sewed whatever was 
brought. He made a match against five of the best 
workers in Boston. Each was given a seam, and the 
machine five seams. The girls sewed faster than ever 
before, but the machine sewed faster still. But it was 
all of no use. 

Howe almost gave up. He turned engineer on a 
railway, but the work was too hard for him. So he 
turned again to his machine. 

He succeeded in getting it introduced into England. 
But when he returned home, he found that several invent- 
ors had heard of his machine, and were making others 
that were infringements of his patents. Among these 
was the well-known Isaac Singer. During the year 
1850 he saw one of Howe's machines, and after examin- 
ing it, went home and made a drawing containing several 
improvements. With great difficulty he obtained fifty 
dollars and set to work to make a model. Day and night 
he worked at it, hardly stopping to get a few hours' 
sleep, for eleven days. " The first attempt to sew was 
unsuccessful," he wrote, " and the workmen, who were 
tired out with almost unremitting work, left me one by 
one, saying that it was a failure. I continued trying the 
machine, with Zieber to hold the lamp for me. But, in 
the nervous condition to which I was reduced by incessant 
work and anxiety, I was unsuccessful in getting the 
machine to sew tight stitches. About midnight I started 
with Zieber to the hotel where I boarded. Upon the 
way we sat down upon a pile of boards, and Zieber asked 
me if I had noticed that the loose loops of thread were 
on the upper side of the cloth as it came from the needle. 
It flashed across me that I had forgotten to adjust the 



TRUE STORY OF THE SEWING-MACHINE 193 

tension upon the needle thread. Zieber and I went back 
to the shop, I adjusted the tension, tried the machine and 
sewed five stitches perfectly, when the thread broke. 
The perfection of these stitches satisfied me that the 
machine was a success. I stopped work, went to the 
hotel, and had a sound sleep." 

Few more curious pictures than this can be found in 
all the varied histories of invention — the man trying his 
machine at dead of night, with his comrade holding the 
light; refusing to give up till at last the case seemed 
hopeless even to him ; then going away, but after a few 
steps seizing the true idea, and rushing back to his work- 
shop to sew those magic five stitches that told him the 
work was done. 

In New York, Singer did what Howe had never done. 
He forced his machine on the public. He advertised it, 
exhibited it, worked night and day, till at last it began to 
get widely known. Singer was told that he was infring- 
ing Howe 's patent. The case seemed plain, but he deter- 
mined to fight it. To do this he had to find some earlier 
inventor than Howe. Strangely enough, he succeeded in 
doing this. A letter came into his possession which spoke 
of a machine made by one Walter Hunt in 1832. 

Hunt had anticipated Howe's idea, but had he antici- 
pated the working of it? An old machine that he had 
sold in 1834 was brought out, and Hunt was set to work 
upon it. But he had half forgotten his original idea, and 
was unable at once to reproduce it. The old machine 
would not sew, and the courts, after a long-suit, decided 
in favor of Howe, and the matter was at an end. 



Nature Study in Elementary Schools 

A MANUAL FOR TEACHERS 
By LUCY LANGDON WILLIAMS WILSON, Ph.D. 

Philadelphia Normal School 

!2mo. Cloth. Price 90 cents. 



This course of Nature Study may be pursued with profit to teacher 
and pupil in any one of the first four years of school life, and in any 
school however poorly equipped. 

It is planned chiefly to meet the needs of the ordinary grade teacher 
in the public schools and does not presuppose special training on her 
part nor special facilities for the collection of material. It does, how- 
ever, take for granted a strong desire on the teacher's part to do this 
work, a lively belief in its efficacy, and an earnest effort to become 
better acquainted with the familiar, yet to most of us unknown face of 
nature, 



Prof. W. L. Poteat, Wake Forest College, North Carolina. 

" Mrs. Wilson's ' Nature Study ' impresses me as a very timely and a 
very sensible book. Any live teacher must be grateful for its suggestive 
helpfulness. I shall take pleasure in recommending it for the course of 
reading prepared for the public school teachers of this State." 

Dr. R. K. Buehrle, Superintendent, Lancaster, Pa. 

" Mrs. Wilson's little manual affords excellent assistance to those who 
mean to equip themselves for the best kind of work. It is a good book 
for every teacher to have and to study when preparing to give lessons 
in Nature Study." 

Charlotte E. Reeve, State Normal School, New Paltz, N. Y. 

" I am exceedingly well pleased with the book. The subject of 
Nature Study is so comprehensive that I think most teachers feel dis- 
couraged at the thought of it. The Wilson manual presents such 
carefully selected subject-matter that the teaching of it becomes a 
delight rather than an added burden. I shall endeavor to make our 
pupil teachers feel that it is one of die books they must own." 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 



FIRST NATURE READER 

i6mo. Cloth. 35 cents 



The original matter in this series of Readers has been 
written, and the selections chosen, with the desire of putting 
into the hands of little children, literature which shall have 
for their minds the same interest and value that really good 
books and magazines have for grown-up people. It is the 
author's aim to prepare the ground and even thus early to 
plant the seeds of that which may develop into a love for 
art, for literature, and for nature. 



COMMENTS ON FIRST READER 

George HowellS, Superintendent of Schools, Scranton, Pa. 

" Since receiving ' First Nature Reader' by Mrs. Wilson I have read 
every line in the book, and I wish to say that I have seen nothing in 
the line of Nature Study as good as this little volume." 

Addison Jones, Principal of Public School, Westchester, Pa. 

" We are using in our primary schools ' Nature Study in Elementary 
Schools' and the reader by the same author. These books aid us in 
doing excellent work in the line of elementary science." 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 



SECOND NATURE READER 

i6mo. Cloth. 35 cents 



NATURE MYTHS, STORIES AND POEMS 

For elementary teachers who wish to give a course of nature study 
based on the phenomena of the changing seasons. It is* suitable for 
use with children in their second and third year of school work. The 
sentences are short, the language simple; yet the aim in choosing the 
selections and writing the part which is original has been to give 
the children reading which shall have for them the same value and 
interest as good literature has for older minds. The author seeks to 
prepare the ground and even thus early to plant the seeds which may 
develop into a taste for good art or literature. The book is excellently 
illustrated from nature and the masterpieces of art, and the selections 
are by the best writers, whose books are within the children's com- 
prehension, Shakespeare, Keats, Emerson, Longfellow, Whittier, Jean 
Ingelow, Robert Louis Stevenson, and many others. 



COMMENTS ON NATURE SERIES 

Julia Richman, Principal Public School, 77 New York City. 

" We have used Mrs. Wilson's ' Nature Study in Elementary Schools' 
since June, and my teachers are unanimous in their verdict that it is 
the best guide to their Nature work that has come to our notice. It is 
hard to select a special merit in a work so full of good things, but its 
suggestion and its correlated language work have been of the greatest 
value. No teacher should be without a copy." 

Charlotte E. Reeve, State Normal School, New Paltz, N. Y. 

" I am exceedingly well pleased with the book. The subject of 
Nature Study is so comprehensive that I think most teachers feel dis- 
couraged bv the thought of it. The Wilson manual presents such 
carefully selected subject-matter that the teaching of it becomes a 
delight rather than an added burden. I shall endeavor to make our 
pupil teachers feel that it is one of the books that they must own." 

A. J. Davis, Principal State Normal School, Clarion, Pa. 

" I am verv much pleased with the plan of ' Nature Study,' and shall 
gladly bring it to the attention of our science teacher and of the 
superintendent of the Model School." 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 



Handbook of Nature Study 

FOR TEACHERS AND PUPILS IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS 
By D. LANGE, 

Instructor in Nature Study in the Public Schools of St. Paul, Minn. 

i2mo. Cloth. $1.00 



The purpose of the book is to furnish to teachers material sugges- 
tions with which to make their pupils acquainted with the plant and 
animal life around them. The subject-matter is arranged according to 
seasons and life communities, and the author, a teacher of wide ex- 
perience, has taken special pains to show some of the relations existing 
between the vegetable and animal kingdoms, animate and inanimate 
nature, and between man and nature. Brief directions are given con- 
cerning field lessons. Sixty illustrations are included in the text. 



COMMENTS 
Education 

" He has made a delightful book which one takes up with pleasure 
and lays down with regret." 

Northwest Journal of Education 

" The intelligent teacher with this manual at hand cannot fail to do 
Nature Study work that will rouse keenest interest in pupils. The 
arrangement, the illustrations, and the language are all worthy of much 
commendation." 

Wisconsin Journal of Education 

" The style of the book is fresh and inspiring ; its descriptions clear 
and full ; and its illustrations numerous." 



Our Native Birds 

HOW TO PROTECT THEM AND ATTRACT THEM TO OUR HOMES 

By D. LANGE 

i2mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price $1.00 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 



JUN 7 1900 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




